


Marvel-ous Birthdays 2016

by ozhawk



Series: Marvel-ous Birthdays [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Crack, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Other, Smut, Tumblr Prompts, at least there probably will be smut, gift fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 189
Words: 128,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since I love writing prompts but whenever I open up asks for Tumblr prompts I get overwhelmed, I've come up with a strategy to spread them out :D</p><p>I'll write them for birthdays!</p><p>If you'd like a gift drabble written for your birthday, please go to <a href="http://ozhawkauthor.tumblr.com/birthdays">this Tumblr page</a> and <a href="http://ozhawkauthor.tumblr.com/ask">send me an ask</a> in the following format, or similar:</p><p>  <em>My birthday is April 26th and I'd like to request a RumSkye ficlet for the prompt “You wouldn’t dare!”</em></p><p>Please don't send the ask anon; this is ONLY open to people who are following me on Tumblr and I need to be able to tag you in the fic when it's eventually posted! I will also reply privately to your ask to advise you that it's been received and added to my list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 will be an Index chapter for ease of navigation.

**2 - April 10** \- Bucky/Jemma/Steve, “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” for thestarfishdancer

 **3 - April 17** \- Darcy/Remy, “Is that all your mouth is good for?” for dresupi

 **4 -**   **April 17** \- Brock Rumlow/Clint Barton,“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.” for weirdlet

 **5 - April 22 -** Fitz/Nat,“My preference is often” for miss-moonstone

 **6 -** **April 25 -** Darcy/Gambit/Rumlow, “What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again.” for aliitvodeson  

 **7 - April 25** \- CaptainWinterQuake, "Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" for dinahhlaurellance

 **8 - April 26** \- DaisyBones, "You wouldn't dare!" for me :D

 **9 - April 30** \- Daisy/Rollins, "Too hot, hot damn, make a dragon wanna expire man!" for fyredahlia

 **10 -** **May 4** \- Grant Ward/Wanda, “You say you’d be the best fuck I’ll ever have? Prove it.” for lark-cale

 **11 - May 4 -** Skye/Darcy, "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong." for IJustWonAFreeToasterOven

 **12 - May 4** \- Rumlow/Rollins/Darcy, "Make me" for libertinem

 **13 - May 5** \- Steve/Bucky/Skye, "This is mine. Are we clear?" for ananova55

 **14 - May 6** \- Bucky/Kitty, "Where do you think you're going?" for madlovve

 **15 - May 6** \- Darcy/Howard Stark, "Come here often?" for gray-horizons

 **16 - May 6** \- Bucky/Phil, "Can I sit on your lap?" for fadesealcat

 **17 - April 3** (belated) - Darcy/Rollins, “You’re very sexy when you’re angry”  for strycnosa

 **18 - May 10** \- Rumlow/Darcy,  _"_ I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked" for pyrousseau

 **19 - May 11 -** Steve/Skye, "I'd hold onto something if I were you" for writingcalmsthemind

 **20 - May 11** \- Frank/Darcy, "You wouldn't dare!" for thatpunkmaximoff

 **21 - May 13 -** Brock/Maria, "I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked" for sian22redux

 **22 - May 15 -** Darcy/Steve, "What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again" for lifeliver1989

 **23 - May 18** \- Darcy/Logan, "Holy shit! Are you like an Iron Chef or something?" for sheilalester71

 **24 - May 19 -** Fitz/OC, "Kiss the hell out of me. Please." for theonewithwaytoomanyfandoms

 **25 - May 19** \- Crossbones/Colossus, "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I looked great - wait, I said that wrong" for anon

 **26 - May 20** \- Bucky/Beth, "Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you tastes like" for marvelfanuniverse

 **27 - May 20** \- Bucky/Jane, "Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth" for iamartemisday

 **28 - May 22** \- QuakePool, "Is that all your mouth is good for?" for wabbitwanderer95

 **29 - May 23** \- Daisy/Gambit, "Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" for ladywinterlight

 **30 - May 23** \- Clint/Darcy, "You and I would have really attractive children." for cc74

 **31 - May 24** \- Remy/Darcy, "You're so cute when you're tired, you know," for aww-brain-no

 **32 - May 25 -** Bucky/Darcy, "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong" for techbeck

 **33 - May 28** \- Darcy/Bucky/Rumlow, "What makes you think I'd fuck you again?" for shelflife75

34 **\- Prize ficlet** \- Darcy/Matt Murdock, "Are you going to eye fuck me all night or do something about it?" for thatpunkmaximoff

 **35 - May 31** \- Darcy/Bucky, "What... was that?" for mommawynni

 **36 - Prize ficlet -** Jemma/Daisy, "I would rather have a cup of tea than sex" for shineefan101amg

 **37 - Prize ficlet**  - Darcy/Deadpool, "You can stay but your clothes must go" for holieshka

 **38 - Prize** **ficlet** \- Darcy/Claire Temple, "I only like getting bossed around when I'm naked!" for uruvuelnumenesse

 **39 - Prize ficlet -** Fitz/Darcy/Bucky, "No, no, just keep your clothes on" for sassinessisthewaytogo

 **40 - June 3** \- T'Challa/Bucky, "Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. Yes is the answer." for fakesmilesandsecrets

 **41 - June 8** \- Jemma/Rollins, "I'm not gonna stop leaving marks until I'm sure everyone knows you're mine" for sneakytortoise

 **42 - June 9** \- Fitz/Sam, "No - no. Just keep your clothes on." for celiaequus

 **43 - June 12** \- Steve/Daisy, "Can I sit on your lap?" for squirt304

 **44 - June 12** \- Sam/Daisy, "You're so cute when you're tired, you know." for theineffableamberjae

 **45 - June 12** \- Steve/Remy, "Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. Yes is the answer." for thepoolofthedead

 **46 - June 12** \- Pietro/Daisy, "My sexual preference is often" for starlit007day

 **47 - June 13** \- Thor/Darcy/Clint, 'anything with Thor calling Darcy 'little one',' for roseskye13

 **48 - June 16 -** Frank Castle/Darcy, "I'm personally offended that you didn't ask me to be your fake date" for lovebuckybarnes

 **49 - June 18** \- Clint/Logan, "How did you get in there?" for carudnick

 **50 - June 19** \- RumSkye, "I'm not gonna stop leaving marks till I'm sure everyone will know you're mine." for vigilantewives

 **51 - June 21 -** RumSkye,"Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth" for darkwoman20

 **52 - June 21** \- Bucky/Jemma, "Wait, you want me to do what now?" for anifreakazoid-blog

 **53 - June 22** \- Bucky/Jemma, "If you're going to dress like that, I'm not going to let you out of my sight" for hutch2014

 **54 - June 23** \- Rumlow/Rollins/Skye, “If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.” for uncomfortablequandary

 **55 - June 30** \- Steve/Daisy, "My sexual preference is often" for fictional-before-real

 **56 - July 1** \- Steve/Darcy/Bucky, "You haven’t had sex in how long?” for loki-theatre-gurl

 **57 - July 2** \- Jemma/Rollins, “I’m going to show you what real fucking is.” for musicisme16

 **58 - July 2 -** Darcy/Tony,“Is there a mirror in your pocket, because I look great! Wait, I said that wrong” for sassinessisthewaytogo

 **59** -  **July 3 -** Thranduil/Darcy Lewis,“You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.”  for aoisakai

 **60 -** **July 5** \- DaisyBones, “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.” for stayingsilver

 **61 -** **July 5** \- Matt/Daisy, “We both keep running into each other, wait have we met?" for shebber

 **62 -** **July 5** \- Fitz/Nat , “Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.” for probablyunnecessary

 **63 -** **July 5** \-  Tony/Darcy, _"_ What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again" for just-be-you-darling                                                             continues from ch. 58

 **64 -** **July 7** \- Maria/Remy, “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” for stereden

 **65 -** **July 9** \- Steve/Daisy, _"_ I'm not going to stop leaving marks until everyone knows you're mine" for scrumptiouslygloriousstudentfan

 **66 -**   **July 12 -** Skye/Bucky, “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” for luna-orlha

 **67 -** **July 17** \- Bucky/Darcy ,“Too hot, hot damn, make a dragon wanna retire man!” for whitesilenceinthesnow

 **68 -** **July 19** \- Remy/Darcy, “I’m sorry I’m not paranoid” for hkthauer

 **69 -** **July 19** \- Daisy/Rumlow/Rollins, “You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” for mintchipandbooks

 **70 -** **July 20** \- Daisy/Remy, "You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” for kitkatklub99

 **71 -** **July 20** \- AntWitch, "Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" for pomerqueen

 **72 -** **July 20 -** Pyro/Bobby/Darcy, “Anticipation makes the hard-on longer" for thedarkqueenofangels

 **73 -** **July 21** \- AntWitch, "I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked" for doccd23414

 **74 -** **July 22** \- Darcy/Bucky, "You wouldn't dare!" for justduck1982

 **75** -  **July 23 _-_** Clint/Steve, “I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.” for atheandra

 **76 - July 24** - Frank Castle/Karen Page, "Were you dreaming about me?" for that-wimpy-cowboy-doll

 **77 -** **July 25** \- Jemma/Bucky, _“_ Does it taste alright?” for thisisriversong

 **78 - July 29 -** Darcy/Sif, platonic, "Why are you looking at me like that?" for paceees

 **79 -**   **July 31** _-_ Darcy/Sabretooth,“I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” for houseofthegnome

 **80 - August 1** \- Darcy/Bucky/Steve, "Small Fire! I said set a small fire!  

 **81 -**   **August 3** _-_ Daisy/Natasha,“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.” for the-boob-aesthetic

 **82** -  **August 3** \- Bucky/T'Challa,"You and I would have really attractive children.” for iamadelicateflowergoddammit

 **83 - August 3** \- platonic Darcy Lewis/Bruce Banner “No — no. Just keep your clothes on.” for ironman-out-keele

 **84 -**   **August 5** \- Steve/Bucky/Darcy,"Are you going to eye fuck me all night or do something about it?” for lightshinesthru

 **85 - August 6 -** Bucky/Darcy,"Why is there a tiger in here?" for vassel-legacy

 **86 -** **August 7** \- Bucky/Fitz/Steve, _“_ You know I dream of you.” for the-names-chnandler-bong

 **87 -** **August 10 -** Steve/Darcy/Natasha, “Eyes up now. Look at me.” for michellelynne87

 **88 - August 10** \- Steve/Jemma/Bucky, "I need one of those hugs that turns into sex." for artemisofthewildwood

 **89 - August 10 -** Steve/Clint/Darcy,  _“_ Anticipation makes the hard-on longer.” for huskiesfan-olicity-wintershock

 **90 - August 10** \- Skye/Logan,"Why? You asshole!" for millaraysuyai

 **91 - August 10** \- Victor/Daisy, _“_ I’m holding your hand because the movie is scary, all right? It’s a… terrifying… rom-com.” for afrikasisi

 **92 - August 11** \- Jemma/Bucky,  _“_ Thank god I’m wearing gloves, because you’re too hot to handle.”  for i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you

 **93 - August 15 -** Hunter/Bobbi/Clint/Nat,  _"_ Finally, a bed big enough for all of us, how about we test it out?" for the-mcm-duo

 **94 - August 16** \- Tony/Skye, _"_ You and I would have really attractive children"  for arrowsbane

 **95 - August 16 -** Rumlow/Rollins/Daisy, "Stop comparing me to superman."  for silverrain323

 **96 - August 16** \- Loki/May, "Is that a challenge?"  for neonsheep

 **97 - August 15-21 (17)** \- Victor/Daisy, “I'm not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine"  for valin-dana

 **98 - August 18** \- Jemma/Nightcrawler, "Demons are tempting but the heart is what matters." for orangetigger99

 **99 - August 19** \- Steve/Wanda, "I love it when you're rough" for mariisawsume123

 **100 - August 19** \- Jemma/Rollins, “Thank god I’m wearing gloves, because you’re too hot to handle.”  for mietzemaus78

 **101 - August 19** \- RumSkye  "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back." for lillyrosenight

 **102 -** **August 22** \- Daisy/Steve “I’m going to show you what real fucking is.” for akadaisyrogers

 **103 -** **August 22** \- Daisy/Rollins “Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth" for enchantingdanger227

 **104 -** **August 23** - Mack/Tony (MuscledMechanics) "Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" for quinfirefrorefiddle

 **105 -** **Bonus ficlet for georgiagirlagain** “This is mine. Are we clear?” Victor/Darcy

 **106** -  **August 26** \- Kristen from Statistics/Remy LeBeau “I am always looking for meaningful one-night stands” for nightwitchling

 **107 -** **August 27** \- Darcy/Victor Creed for a blend of “Want to come over and watch porn on my flat screen mirror?” and “Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth” for scienceatemybrian

 **108 - August 28 -** Darcy/Remy “This is mine. Are we clear?” for themusingofagothicsoul

 **109 -** **September 1 -** CaptainQuakeBones “And how are you going to make it up to me?” for a-nerdy-kat

 **110 - September 3 -** Maria Hill/Wade Wilson "You know I dream of you?", for whedonista93

 **111 -** **September 4** - _Remy/Darcy “Nothing risqué, nothing gained” for digital-pinapple_

 **112 -** **September 5** \- WinterWaitress “Why are you looking at me like that?”  for kathryn-claire-oconnor

 **113 - Bonus prompt -** Sabertooth/Ward/Wanda "Eyes up now. Look at me.”  for aliitvodeson

 **114 -** **Bonus prompt** \- Grant Ward/Wanda Maximoff for the prompt “I’d hold onto something if I were you” for lark-cale

 **115 -** **Bonus ficlet** _-_ Darcy/Remy/Rumlow "You're very sexy when you're angry" for reprehensiblewombat

 **116 - September 9 -** Steve/Bucky/Sif “And how are you going to make it up to me?” for brokengem

 **117 -** **September 10** \- Pietro/Darcy, “I am always looking for meaningful one night stands", for appalachian-apathy

 **118 -** **September 10** \- Victor/Darcy “I’d hold onto something if I were you” for pepsi-max

 **119 - September 13 -** Darcy/Mack “They’re not good enough for you” for indubitably26

 **120 - Mid-September -** Johnny/Darcy “Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great...wait. I said that wrong.” for katiedid

 **121 -** **Mid-September** \- Skye/Bobby (Iceman) “You wouldn’t dare!" for greennonmonster

 **122 -** **September 19** \- Daisy/Matt Murdock "Are you jealous?" for youreprettyfreakingdope

 **123 -** **September 20** \- Skitz “We have to tell them” for littlelamb92

 **124 - September 20 -** Steve/Daisy "You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?” for llxtigerlillyxll

 **125 -** **September 21** \- Darcy/Bruce “You’re really sexy when you’re angry” for astartelydianna

 **126 -** **September 23** \- Darcy/Hunter “I don’t know what you’re supposed to be dressed as, but you’ve failed” for phoenix-173

 **127 -** **September 23** \- Sam/Darcy/Bucky "You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend material" for stateofconstantconfusion

 **128 -** **September 22** - Darcy/Rollins “I’ve been thinking about you all day” Darcy/Rollins for pinkpandorafrog

 **129 - September 25 -** Bucky Barnes/Kitty Pryde “What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again.” for chibi-crazy

 **130 -** **September 25 -**  Darcy/Victor "You’re very sexy when you’re angry" for ureeber

 **131 -** **October 3** \- Darcy/Bucky “You know I dream of you" for wandamaximoffk

 **132 -** **October 4** \- Remy/Wanda "I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.” for hiraethhouse

 **133 - October 4 -** "They're not good enough for you". Said by an overprotective (not jealous) Pietro about Wanda's feelings for Vision, for adiarshira

 **134 - October 6 -** Fitz/Nat "I like your gun." for jen4850

 **135 - October 7 -** platonic Jemma/Clint “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” for rivanwarrioress

 **136 -** **October 7** - Steve/Jemma/Bucky  "Well you said you'd make it up to me. I'd like that to start now." for andysteve1311

 **137 - October 9** \- WinterShieldShock "Uh, sweetheart, what's this doing here?" for sporkette

 **138 - October 10** \- Darcy/Frank "They're not good enough for you"  for jim-is-spock-thyla

 **139 - October 10** \- “I know a really good cure for that.” fluffy Stucky family fic where they adopt Wanda and Pietro and everything is lovely for silverraven22

 **140 - October 10** \- Darcy/Bucky "I'm too sober for this shit" for takari25

 **141 - October 12** \- RumSkye “I’m not cheap, but I am on special this week.” for alilacskye

 **142 - October 12** \- DaisyBones “Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.” for trust-me-i-dare-you

 **143 - October 15** - Darcy/Magneto "You know I dream of you" for littleroma

 **144 - October 16 -** Sabretooth/Darcy “I'll show you what real fucking is,” for georgiagirlagain

 **145 - October 16 -** Steve/Bucky/Peter Quill "I'm always looking for meaningful one night stands"  for mariknickerbocker

 **146 - October 17 -** platonic! Darcy &T'Challa  "make me!" for live-me-later

 **147 - October 17 -** Victor/Darcy “I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.”  for sorcha-lawhir

 **148 - October 19 -** Darcy/Magneto "I'm not cheap, but I am on special this week" for bernt7

 **149 - October 20 -** Christine Everhart/Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins "Sorry miss, this area is off-limits" for trooperschaf

 **150 - October 22 -**  WinterWar “Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth.”  for taleasadubh

 **151 - October 22 -** Daisy/Nick Fury soulmate fic for skoulson4life

 **152 - October 25 -** Helen/Steve,“You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend/Girlfriend material.” for backwardsandinhighheels

 **153 - October 29 -** Darcy/Bucky,"Make me."  for nobutsiriuslywhat

 **154 - October 31 -** Deadpool/Darcy/Gambit, "Is that all your mouth is good for?"  for tabby-beast

 **155 - October 31 -** Bucky/Darcy/Rumlow "I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked." for punklegacydragon

 **156 - October 31 -** Bucky/Darcy/Steve “You say you’d be the best fuck I’ll ever have? Prove it.” for notastupidname

 **157 -** **October 31** \- Rumlow/Rollins/Darcy “Where do you think you’re going?” for pnrdrnk

 **158 - November 5 -** Victoria Hand/Sif, “Ah, ah, not till I give you permission.” for chandak562

 **159 - November 5** \- Fitztasha "Lick it" for fuckyouimafox

 **160 - November 7 -** Tony/Daisy “I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.”  for aelwing

 **161 -** **November 9** \- Daisy/Bucky “And how are you going to make it up to me?” for avioletfrost

 **162 -** **November 9** \- Frank/Darcy “Kiss the hell out of me. Please.” for badwolf1688

 **163 - November 11 -** Batroc/Beth “If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.” for shiniestqueen

 **164 - November 14 -** Daisy/Rollins "I love it when you're rough" for dwynn5002

 **165 - November 16** \- Darcy/Skye/Remy “Stress-induced superpowers” for amusewithaview

 **166 - November 19 -** Bucky/Helen "I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” for nurselaney

 **167 -** **November 19** \- Remy/Darcy "Try me if you dare"  for burningsunshin3

 **168 -** **November 22** \- Steve/Daisy “Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.” for magickgirl786

 **169 - November 24 -** Steve/Darcy "The Star Spangled Man with a-Oops, sorry."  for multi-fandom-girl2

 **170 - December 2 -** QuickQuake “Is there a mirror in your pocket?" for agentskyebarnes

 **171 - December 5 -** Bucky/Jemma "I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.”  for bellemeri

 **172 -** **December 9** \- Wintershock “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” for lokisgirl2014

 **173 - December 9 -** Darcy/Bucky  “You're taking up a lot more room in this closet than I am. Shove over!" for creed-88

 **174 -** **December 10** \- Darcy/Steve/Bucky "It looks like you're in trouble there. Can I help?" for blue-beasts-girl

 **175 - December 12** \- Free choice, feelsy fluff requested, Daddy!Bucky and father/daughter bonding with maybe Darcy catching him? for cerriddwenluna

 **176 - December 13 -** WinterShieldShock "Oh my God - I can't believe I said that - to YOU!"  for clear-skies-and-misty-eyes

 **177 - December 16 -** Loki/Skye "You wouldn't dare"  for vulpeculanight

 **178 -** **December 17** - Natasha/Sif “Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.” for iamaboojum

 **179 -** **December 18** - Skye/Loki “You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” for bloominidiot

 **180 - December 22 -** Sif/Matt Murdock, Author’s choice for masquerade122

 **181 -** **December 24** \- Darcy/Pietro “You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend/Girlfriend material.”  for tinydear

 **182 - December 25 -**  Bucky/Jemma/Rumlow “I’m going to show you what real fucking is.”  for bohojess

 **183 - December 26 -**  Darcy/Bucky  'I came here to punch you/him/her in the face, not listen to your/his/her monologue.'  for ibelieveinturtles

 **184 - December 27 -** Darcy/Tony “I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.” for alltheshinies

 **185 -** **December 28** \- Tasertricks “Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” for party-in-the-blue-box

 **186 - December 28 -** Fitz/Natasha "Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?"  for theicecreammanoftheuniverse

 **187 -** **December 29** - FitzNat “Don’t _worry, it only seems kinky the first time.” for mischiefandmagic6_

 **188 - December 29 -** Darcy/Tony "I'm personally offended that you didn't ask me to be your fake date."  for sarastark

**189 - Redirect**

 

 


	2. Index

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 10** \- “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” Bucky/Jemma/Steve, for thestarfishdancer

“Doesn’t it drive you insane?” Jemma asked Bucky despairingly as they watched the TV show’s hosts fawning over Steve.

“Why would it?” Bucky said blankly.

“The way everyone just throws themselves at him! _Touches_ him, like he’s some sort of public property…” Jemma had to fight not to grind her teeth as the female host smoothed her hand down the lapel of the suit Steve was wearing, lingering _far_ too long with her hand on his chest.

“But he’s not,” Bucky said logically. “He’s _ours_.”

Bucky didn’t get it, Jemma realised miserably. But then, why would he? He was public property too, though not to quite the same extent as Steve. The Winter Soldier was a slightly more intimidating prospect than Captain America, at least in person, though she’d made one or two forays into the Avengers fandom on the internet before she decided that way lay madness. She knew there were a whole subset of fans who spent their time drooling over Bucky’s thighs, his hair, his lips and pretty much every other body part. Every image of both her soulmates was endlessly scrutinised and adored.

She realised that Bucky wasn’t quite as oblivious as she’d thought in bed that night, when both her soulmates took special pains to reassure her that she had no cause for jealousy. None whatsoever.

“Although we’ve got a joint interview with Christine Everhardt tomorrow, and she’s _really_ handsy,” Steve admitted. “I can’t exactly slap her hands off. And I haven’t perfected that _Don’t Touch Me_ dark stare Bucky does so well…”

Bucky chuckled quietly. “They’re all jealous of _you_ , Jemma. They might not know who you are because you’ve chosen to stay out of the public eye, but Stevie and I have both talked very publicly about our female soulmate and how happy we are with you.”

“Are you reconsidering…?” Steve checked.

“No. No, I really don’t want the attention.” _The hate mail_ , she thought. Knowing that the mailroom already threw away, unopened, at least a sackful a week addressed to _Steve and Bucky’s fake bitch soulmate_ , or similar. X-rays and tests had shown that the envelopes contained razor blades, contact poison, other unsavoury things. There’d even been a bloody anthrax scare, which she’d happened to be called in to deal with since she happened to be the bio-specialist on duty in the facility that day. At least until they realised who the envelope was actually addressed to. ‘Outing’ herself would only give the haters a name to put on their filth.

“Maybe we can just talk about our soulmate. A lot,” Bucky mused. “About how beautiful she is, how brilliant. How she makes these delectable noises when we have her sandwiched in between us.” He rocked his hips against Jemma’s, swelling cock sliding between her thighs, to show that he was very much ready to start making her scream again.

That made Jemma blush. “Don’t you dare!” She bit sharply at his neck when he laughed at her, making Bucky still and moan. Pulling back, she studied the rapidly darkening bruise. It would fade far more quickly than one on her would, she knew. Would be gone within a day or so, as would any mark on Steve.

Which gave her an idea…

Steve moaned too when she bit him, high on his neck under his jaw, hard enough to draw blood. “ _Jemma_ ,” his voice was low and husky.

“I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine,” she told him, moving across to the other side and settling in to give him a thick black hickey before letting him go and turning to Bucky. “Both of you. And don’t you dare let any makeup artist try to cover these tomorrow!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky agreed submissively, lifting his head to bare his throat for her.

“Whatever you say,” Steve agreed deliriously, thoroughly and completely aroused.


	3. Darcy/Remy, for dresupi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 17** \- “Is that all your mouth is good for?” Darcy/Remy, for dresupi
> 
> French translations courtesy of stereden!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Featuring a Remy who’s been working with the Avengers, and Darcy, for a little while. He flirts. As he does with everything with a pulse, so Darcy doesn’t take him seriously._

Remy wasn’t quite sure when exactly he _had_ become serious about Darcy, Darcy with her beautiful blue eyes and her sassy mouth. Not that someone with his past could ever deserve her anyway, though that didn’t stop him from hanging around anywhere he thought she might be.

Which was how he happened to be there to see her delighted reaction to Steve bringing her a bag of candies one day, some old-fashioned thing that had proven hard to find and Darcy had managed to get addicted to anyway. Throwing her arms around Steve’s neck, she kissed his blushing cheek soundly, laughing with delight, before grabbing the bag, tearing it open and popping one of the candies into her mouth.

Her plush, red-lipped mouth, that mouth that haunted Remy’s dreams whenever he managed to find sleep, which wasn’t often. Too many nights lately he’d lain staring into the darkness wondering what Darcy was doing. Thinking about how she would feel in his arms.

“Mmm,” Darcy made the most obscenely sexual sounds, humming and slurping on the candy, that Remy lost his head entirely.

“Is that all your mouth is good for?” he asked crudely, “or can you make sounds like that in bed, too?”

He’d forgotten Steve’s presence. At least, until the other man’s powerful hands clenched in the front of his shirt, jerking him off his feet.

“Apologise!” Steve thundered, face black with rage. “ _Now_! You do not goddamn well speak to a lady like that, LeBeau!”

Darcy stood staring in complete shock, wondering what the hell had just happened as the two men started yelling at each other in French. Remy’s eyes were beginning to glow, though, purple light forming around his fingers. Hastily, she hurried forward, put her hand on Steve’s arm.

“Put him down, Steve, please,” she garbled out around her candy, cursing herself from having stuffed in such a big piece. “It’s just Remy being an ass, I’m quite used to it.”

Steve was about to shout that she shouldn’t have to be used to such insulting filth when he happened to glance back at Remy and saw the expression on the other man’s face, such naked misery that his hands opened in surprise and he let go of Remy’s shirt.

_“Mais qu'est-ce que tu as en ce moment, Lebeau?"_

Humiliated at having made such a fool of himself in front of Darcy, he closed his eyes, willed the hellfire gathering in them to die down, not opening them until he was sure he had himself under control. _"Tu peux nous laisser une minute? Je te promets que je vais m'excuser."_  

Steve gave him a long, steady look before nodding. _"J'espère que tu t'es excusé."_

“What,” Darcy said as Steve left, “the _hell_ , Remy?” She’d swallowed the candy, just stood staring at him, hands on her hips. “That was pretty fucking rude, even for you!”

“ _Je suis desolé_ , Darcy - I’m sorry,” he said guiltily, hardly able to meet her eyes.

“Is something wrong, Remy?” she moved towards him, hesitantly put a hand on his arm. “I mean, you can be an ass, but you’re never outright…”

“Shitty? I’m sorry, Darcy, truly.” He looked almost wretched, she thought.

“It’s okay,” she gave him a smile. “You’re forgiven.” Remembering something, Darcy held up the bag of candy. “Would you like a piece? It’s really very good.”

She had absolutely no idea what made Remy groan so loudly and storm out, gesticulating to himself and muttering under his breath in French.

“What is _up_ with Remy today?” she asked blankly as Natasha came in. Popping another piece of candy in her mouth, she sucked on it happily. “He’s acting _super weird_.”

Natasha took one look at her and began to laugh. “Oh, Darcy. Sweetheart. Let me let you in on a little secret…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ _Mais qu'est-ce que tu as en ce moment, Lebeau?"_ \- What the hell is going on? (with you)
> 
>  _"Tu peux nous laisser une minute? Je te promets que je vais m'excuser._ " - Could you give us a minute, please? I promise I will apologise
> 
> " _J'espère que tu t'es excusé_." - You’d better (apologise)


	4. Brock/Clint, for weirdlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 17** \- “I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.” Brock Rumlow/Clint Barton, for [weirdlet](http://weirdlet.tumblr.com/)

It had been a long, exhausting, _shitty_ day.

Again.

Clint collapsed, still fully dressed and filthy with sweat, grime and gunpowder, onto the motel room’s one bed. Brock gave him a disgusted look on his way past, shedding tactical gear, weapons and clothes as he headed for the bathroom.

“You’re such a slob, Hawkeye.”

Clint was too tired to do anything but appreciate the back view as his soulmate left the room after shedding the last of his clothes. The shower started running, but he just lay there in his smelly funk until Brock returned and hauled him, protesting, to his feet.

“You stink, sugar. Ain’t no way you’re sleeping in here when you smell like that.”

Clint groaned, but Brock was being surprisingly sweet, helping him unfasten the complicated straps and buckles of his tac suit and stripping him down to his skin before half-carrying him to the bathroom.

“How do you still have energy?” Clint muttered grumpily as Brock propped him against the shower wall under the spray and grabbed the soap, lathering up a washcloth.

“Cheaty super-serum, remember? Ain’t as good as Rogers, but my stamina is always gonna be better than any unenhanced human. As you should have figured out by now.” There was a definite twinkle in Brock’s brown-gold eyes as he washed Clint off.

Clint let out a bark of laughter, but he was already starting to feel revived as the hot water sluiced away the sweat and grime clinging to his skin. Revived enough to appreciate the way his soulmate looked all slick with soap and water, thick black hair flattened to his scalp for once. But sadly, he really wasn’t feeling energised enough to initiate anything.

“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex,” he said wearily, “because frankly you look too fucking hot not to, but you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

Brock looked surprised for a moment before abandoning the washcloth and reaching out to pull Clint into his arms, holding him tight. “Anything you want, sugar,” he murmured into the curve of Clint’s neck. “Anything you want.”


	5. Fitz/Natasha, for miss-moonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 22 - “My preference is often” Fitz/Nat, for miss-moonstone**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With an added gift of a manip, since it's a milestone birthday!

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Shorts%20Covers%202/FitzNat_zps3d0hz5l2.jpg.html)

He didn’t even realise who it was, standing in the room peering over his shoulder. He had both his eyes glued to the magnifying scope, carefully and delicately soldering the tiny wires into place. A faint scent reached his nose, smelled like the sports antiperspirant May and Daisy both used, actually.

“Don’t jog my elbow,” he said out of habit, “this is very delicate.”

Whoever stood behind him moved back very slightly, and he touched the tip of the soldering iron to another wire. Breathed out. Reached for the antistatic tweezers and carefully placed the all-important control chip.

“So careful,” a soft voice said behind him. “I bet you’re a very considerate lover. Slow and gentle.”

Fitz stilled, the soldering iron close to the circuit, and smiled. The voice sounded vaguely like Talia, a girl from the IT department who’d taken to coming in and doing something that might vaguely be described as flirting with him. “I’m not sure that over a hot soldering iron is quite the place to discuss sexual preferences,” he murmured, unable to help a smile.

“My preference is _often_ ,” the voice whispered right in his ear - had soft lips just brushed his earlobe? Fitz dropped the soldering iron into the holder and spun around, about to reproach Talia…

His throat seized right up as he stared into the magnificent green eyes of the Black Widow, aka Natasha Romanov, aka the Avenger whose poster Fitz had up on the back of his bedroom door.

“Well,” Natasha smiled at him. “You’re just as cute as Coulson said.” Holding his eyes, she slowly licked her lips. Straightened up, so the cleavage of her half-unzipped catsuit was inescapably right in front of Fitz’s nose.

And sighed.

“Coulson,” she called as Fitz’s unconscious body slumped to the ground at her feet, “I think he’s fainted.”


	6. Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy for aliitvodeson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 25 -** “What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again.” Darcy/Gambit/Rumlow, for aliitvodeson
> 
> (M Rated for somewhat smutty!)

“This is not how I thought the evening was going to go,” Darcy hissed against Remy’s chest.

“Sshh,” he hissed back. She scowled furiously, but quieted, listening to the heavy, tramping feet passing the closed closet door. Behind her, Brock was still and silent, breathing slowly; she could feel his chest moving.

“Get all dressed up fancy, Darcy,” she said, under her breath, aware that both of them had enhanced hearing and could hear every word. “It’s going to be a really awesome party. You’ll look gorgeous. Turn every head. Drink lots of expensive champagne.”

“You’ve had the champagne,” Brock breathed into her ear. “And you do look gorgeous.” His fingers skimmed lightly over her hip, over the thin silk of the very expensive dress which he and Remy had paid for, she conceded. Along with the equally expensive shoes, and a rather fabulous silver and amber necklace.

“Yes, but as for turning heads, I’m not going to be doing a lot of that in this closet, am I?” Darcy hissed. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me that this was a job?”

“It’s personal, and not sanctioned by the Avengers,” Brock answered after a moment. There was the ring of truth in his quiet voice in her ear. “We didn’t want you getting upset.”

“Upset about what? Whose party is this, anyway?”

Remy’s fingers brushed her cheek lightly. It was pitch black in the closet; Darcy wished for a little bit of light to see his face by. “Someone who once used our Brock wrong, _chère_. Alexander Pierce’s son and heir. Though it seems he’s not merely a junior congressman. Considering some unexpected faces we recognised here, it seems Pierce Junior might be following in Daddy’s _other_ footsteps.”

“Hydra,” Darcy whispered, shocked.

“ _Exactement_. We already sent the alert to Stark. But it’s possible that either or both of us could be recognised by some of the unexpected guests here, so we stay here hidden until reinforcements arrive, _non_?”

She sighed, recognising the sense of his statement. The boots outside had receded. “Do we have to stay in this closet?” she asked a little plaintively.

“I’m sure we could make it worth your while,” Brock murmured suggestively in her ear. Remy laughed huskily, hands dropping to hike her skirt up, glide up her thighs, over the lacy tops of her stockings. Darcy shuddered as his fingers reached soft skin.

Brock’s hands slid up over her stomach, cupped her breasts. Pinched unerringly at her nipples as he bent his head, his stubble rasping lightly on her tender neck - and caught her earlobe between his teeth.

Darcy let out a sound that could only be described as a desperate whine.

“What a nice little sound,” Brock whispered in her ear, “I think I’ll bite there again.” He did - just as Remy’s fingers deftly flicked her panties aside and delved into the heated cavern of her pussy.

Darcy had to stuff most of her hand into her mouth to stifle the scream.


	7. CaptainWinterQuake, for dinahhlaurellance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 25** \- CaptainWinterQuake, "Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" for dinahhlaurellance

“Oh, this is not good. Not good!” Bucky ducked down to share the shelter of Steve’s shield. Neither of them were outmatched often, but surrounded by Zemo’s Hydra henchmen raining bullets and fire down on both of them, they’d found themselves boxed into a corner and in a whole heap of trouble right about the time that Bucky’s not-really-infinite supply of ammunition ran dry.

They were both bleeding, from minor wounds that would heal quickly - if they got the chance. Steve had waved Sam off to go for reinforcements, hopefully they wouldn’t have to hold out for too long…

Suddenly, there were bodies flying everywhere, screaming, lightning snapping and striking among them, something blurring repeatedly in front of their eyes… Bucky blinked as an assault rifle fell to the ground in front of him, or at least it _had_ been an assault rifle. Now it was a twisted mass of metal that looked as though someone had literally melted it in a hot furnace.

“What the _hell_?” Steve said, clearly astonished.

The shooting had all died down, replaced by screaming. There were men dropping to the ground right and left, their wrists bound together by some sort of sparkling blue restraining bands.

“What sort of reinforcements did Sam pick up?” Bucky asked, amazed. They stood up, Steve’s shield lowering and saw their rescuers.

Two men and two women, dressed in black leather and Kevlar. One of them, a small, beautiful woman with shoulder-length black hair and sparkling brown eyes, stepped forward with a smile.

“You guys okay?”

Bucky couldn’t help himself. She was just too gorgeous. The pent-up adrenaline of the fight had him stepping forward, a grin spreading across his face, to scoop up her delicate hand and kiss it.

“So, beautiful,” he said with a flirty tilt of his head, “apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

He heard Steve’s choked-off laugh behind him, but his eyes were focussed on the stunning dame in front of him.

“I’m Daisy Johnson,” she said, with a blush and a shy smile, “and these are my Secret Warriors.”


	8. DaisyBones for ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **April 26** \- “You wouldn’t dare!” DaisyBones, for… ME. Happy birthday to meeeee!
> 
> _Fits into the FWOAN ‘verse. Their first snowfall at Lai Shi :D_

The snow came down thick and fast, heavier than Daisy had ever seen it. She watched, wide-eyed, from the window of the house until the thickly falling snow obscured the view entirely.

“Come to bed. Only fit place to spend a winter like this,” Brock called laughingly from their bedroom, and she grinned, drew the curtains and went to join him.

“I don’t think we can hibernate entirely. Nice though the idea might be!”

He welcomed her beneath the thick pile of covers, took her chilly hands and feet in stride, warming them against his skin. “Perhaps, but it’s an excellent excuse for an early night.”

“I can live with that.” She snuggled into the heat of his body, tucking her head under his chin. “I’m not used to snow and cold. I lived in Texas, and then LA, for a reason!”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Brock promised, rolling her under his body, warm hands roaming over her skin. “I know _lots_ of good ways to pass the time in a cold winter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daisy waited, the following morning, until Brock and Mack had cleared the bigger paths around the settlement before venturing out of the house. She still promptly sank knee-deep and floundered the moment she veered off the narrow, hard-trampled trail they’d made.

“You idiot,” Mack hauled her out, laughing at her disgusted face. “Where are your snowshoes?”

“Snowshoes..?”

“I left them by the front door,” Brock called, slogging back towards them.

“So that’s what those were!” she looked enlightened. Mack shook his head with another deep, rumbling chuckle and headed off again.

“Come on,” Brock turned around in front of her and went to one knee. “Hop on. I’ll piggyback you.”

That sounded like fun, so she scrambled onto his back and hung onto his broad shoulders. He hooked his hands under her knees and headed off again.

“Where are we going?” Daisy’s face was so cold her nose was frozen, she was sure. She buried it against Brock’s warm neck, making him chuckle.

“The viewpoint. You have to see it, it’s stunning.”

It wasn’t too far, and well worth the trip, Daisy discovered when he set her down and moved to stand behind her, opening his coat to envelop her in it, share his warmth. Seeing the mountains glimmering with freshly fallen snow in the morning sunlight made her gasp in awe.

“So lovely,” she said softly.

“Best view in creation,” Brock agreed, “especially with you in it.” He nuzzled at her cheek.

Daisy laughed. Turned around to kiss him, putting her arms around his neck - and sneakily dropped the handful of snow she’d just swept up off the railing down the back of his neck.

Brock let out quite a satisfying yell, wriggling and shaking the cold snow out. “You little madam!”

She was already rushing back up the path, laughing her head off. Knowing retribution would be swift, but it had been worth it for that yell and the look on his face. Hearing his boots behind her, she tried to run faster, but it was impossible in the snow, and he caught up in just a few strides, scooping her off her feet.

“You,” he told her, “are going to pay for that.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Daisy recognised the look on his face, hung onto him tighter as he strode back towards their house. Only he diverted before they got there, and suddenly she was being held over what she realised was a very large snowdrift.

“No. No! You wouldn’t dare!” she screeched, trying to hang onto him, half-laughing. “BROCK!”

He pitched her straight into the drift. And then followed in after her, grabbing her as she floundered and shrieked, rolling them both around and around until they were both utterly covered with snow and laughing their heads off.

“You awful, awful man,” Daisy was absolutely helpless with laughter by the time he relented and pulled her out. “I’m soaked! And frozen!”

“All the better to appreciate the hot tub we’re going straight to,” Brock grinned.

“But I didn’t put the heat on…”

“I did.”

“Oh.” She relaxed as he gave her a heated glance. “Well, in that case,” linking her arms around his neck, she let him carry her around to the back of the house and into the small glassed-in room he’d spent half the summer building, insisting that they needed a hot tub. They hadn’t had the chance to try it out yet.

Icy, numb fingers struggled with zips and buttons until Brock came to help her, chuckling at the scowl she threw him. “Cheaty supersoldier,” she muttered.

“You appreciate some of the benefits, don’t give me that. Who warms her icy feet up on my ass every night, hmm?”

Daisy couldn’t deny the truth of that. She just pursed her lips and rolled her eyes at him, though, as he helped peel off her thermal underlayers, dropping everything in a sodden pile on the deck.

“Come on. I’ll warm you up. Properly,” Brock said with an enticing grin, stepping down into the hot water and opening his arms to her.

She was never, ever going to turn down an invitation like that.

Especially not when it came with the opportunity to dive-bomb into the tub and soak him completely.


	9. Daisy/Rollins for fyredahlia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_April 30 -_ ** _"Too hot, hot damn, make a dragon wanna expire man!" Daisy/Rollins for fyredahlia_

Daisy knew her soulmate was attractive, even scarred as he was. Jack described himself as a ‘great ugly brute’, but she’d seen the way other women looked at him. Bobbi had looked him up and down, caught Daisy’s eye and surreptitiously fanned herself. Jemma went into babble-mode every time he was in a room. Even May had, once she’d warmed up to him, given Daisy a wink and a thumbs-up behind Jack’s back more than once.

And he wasn’t a brute, as Daisy was at great pains to tell him. Brutishly handsome, with his granite-hard face, perhaps. And as for his body, WELL. Yes, she was probably (all right, very) biased, but hoo boy, her soulmate had a body to DIE for. He was all long limbs and thick slabs of muscle, broad shoulders and narrow waist, buns of steel and rock-hard… abs.

Leaning against the side of the quinjet, musing on her soulmate’s attractiveness and how lucky she felt to have him, she barely noticed May and Jemma approaching, nodding briskly to her.

“All ready?” May asked.

“Uh, yeah!” Daisy snapped back to awareness. “Sorry. Just waiting on the ready STRIKE team… oh,” she trailed off. She hadn’t realised Jack was on duty as well, tonight. “Oh. Oh wow.” She’d never actually seen Jack fully kitted out in STRIKE combat gear, she realized dazedly. He looked amazing, the stark black combat pants and vest fitting him perfectly, the various guns and knives slung from his combat harness mere counterpoints to his own personal lethality.

“Oh wow,” Jemma echoed behind her, and even May gave an appreciative little hum.

_Mine_ , something possessive and fierce inside Daisy shouted, and without even thinking about how it would look she strode down the ramp and over to Jack, grabbing his webbing harness to pull him down and simultaneously standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Despite both May and Jemma cracking up laughing behind her.

“What was that for?” Jack blinked, bemused, down at her when she let go. “I’m on duty, Daisy, and so are you!”

“Too hot,” she said ineloquently, gesturing up and down.

“What?” he blinked, bemused. A half-smile kicking up the corner of his scarred lip.

“Too hot!”

“He doesn’t know the song,” May said behind her, “he was in Leavenworth, Daisy.”

“O,” her lips formed a circle. “We need to fix that.”

“Too hot,” Jemma said.

“Hot damn!” May promptly followed up, leaving Daisy to finish out with

“Make a dragon wanna expire, man!”

Jack stared at the three small women in pure amazement for a long moment before bursting out laughing.

“Okay. Clearly there’s a story behind this. Come on.” He slung his arm around Daisy’s shoulders, pressed a kiss to the side of her brow. “You can fill me in on the flight.”


	10. Ward/Wanda, for lark-cale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _May 4_  
>  **  
>  _  
>  \- “You say you’d be the best fuck I’ll ever have? Prove it.” Grant Ward/Wanda, for lark-cale  
>  _

 

“He’s  _ impossible _ !” Wanda claimed, flopping down into a chair and scowling at the ceiling. “If he was a woman, he’d be, what do you call it,  _ high-maintenance _ .”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s the way Grant was trained, Wanda. Very similar to the way I was. He doesn’t know any other way to treat a woman than that.”

“I do not understand,” Wanda leaned forward, brow furrowing.

“There’s a saying which sums it up. ‘Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen.’ I was trained that way. Catch a man’s interest and then go cold; soon he will be slavering after you like a panting dog.” Natasha shrugged elegantly. “Grant doesn’t know how to stop playing the game.” She tapped a perfectly manicured fingertip on her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps - well, he  _ is _ your soulmate. Perhaps you could turn it around on him.”

“Help me?” Wanda begged, and Natasha smiled.

~~~~~~~~~

She’d tired of him already. He knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, considering how damaged he was, how little idea he had of how to actually live in the real world, but considering she was his soulmate, well - he’d hoped for more. Had hoped she’d want him to stick around.

He was packing his stuff into the one small duffel bag he planned to take with him when a slight sound at the door of the room made him look around.

“Where are you going?” Wanda stood watching him, arms folded.

“You don’t want me here,” Grant shrugged, turning back to stuffing his rolled-up socks in the duffel.

The door clicked closed and he assumed she’d left. Until she sat down on the bed, grabbed the duffel and tossed it back into the closet.

“I want you here. I just want the Grant Ward who doesn’t plan to play silly games with me. Natasha says it’s how you were trained. These last few days, I have been giving you a taste of your own medicine, and look how you have reacted.”

He froze, thinking back. She was quite right; all she’d been doing was mirroring his own behaviour. With a groan, he sat down beside her on the bed and put his hands over his eyes.

“ _ Fuck _ . I’m sorry, Wanda. I told you at the outset that I don’t know how to have any kind of normal relationship…”

“Me neither,” she shrugged, “so we make it up as we go along, eh? But I think that only works if we can be honest with each other. About how we feel.”

Uncovering his eyes, Grant looked down at her. Her eyes were a lucid, lambent green as she gazed up at him, leaning back on his pillow, dark hair spilling across the white sheets.

“Honesty’s the one thing I was trained never to give,” he confessed plainly.

“I know. I know all about the training you were given, Grant.” Her fingers moved, and he realised he was staring at them, at the way her black-tipped nails shone, reflecting the light as she began to unbutton the blouse she was wearing. “How to pleasure a woman, how to make her feel as though no other man will ever do.” 

“I’ll be the best you ever have,” Grant said, no arrogance, just a simple statement of fact.

Smirking at his open-mouthed gape as she pulled the blouse open to reveal she was wearing nothing beneath, Wanda leaned forward and said “You say you’d be the best fuck I’ll ever have? Prove it.”

He gulped, unable to tear his eyes from her breasts. He’d seen plenty before, but Wanda was different. She was his  _ soulmate _ . 

“You’re sure?”

“Very sure.” Reaching out, she took one of his hands in hers, threading her tiny slender fingers through his large, capable, callused ones. “And then, once we bond, we’ll both  _ know  _ the truth. That so long as we have each other, we’ll never have to be alone again.”


	11. Skye/Darcy, for IJustWonAFreeToasterOven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_May 4 -_** "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong." Skye/Darcy for IJustWonAFreeToasterOven

 

It hadn’t taken long for Skye to realise that despite her sassy remarks and brave attitude, her soulmate was very lacking in self-confidence. Darcy was pretty, and that wasn’t just Skye’s bias talking. She’d seen the way guys looked at Darcy, at her pouting lips, her big blue eyes, her magnificent bosom - which Darcy took great pains to cover up with layers of clothes. She always wore glasses when anyone might see her instead of the contacts Skye knew she had; covered her softly waving brown hair with a quite astounding collection of caps and hats. 

So when Skye heard on the grapevine (Jane told Fitz when he was fixing one of her machines, who told Jemma, who immediately told Skye) that Darcy was having a big fat panic over what to wear on their First Proper Date, Skye immediately knew exactly what she had to do.

She sent Bobbi in with her First Class Superspy Seductress Kit.

“Is that actually what it’s called?” Jemma asked Skye as they peered around the corner, watching as Darcy’s door opened and Bobbi was let in, large black bag in hand.

“It’ll have an acronym. S.H.I.E.L.D. have an acronym for everything,” Jane said wisely. “It’s probably called the S.H.A.G.G.E.R. or something.”

“What the hell would that even stand for?” Skye asked incredulously.

“How should I know?”

“Superspy Harlot Arsenal for Getting Guys Erotically Roused,” Jemma giggled, making both the other two fall about laughing as well.

“And Gals, presumably!” Jane gasped out at last. “At least, Skye better hope so!”

“I trust Bobbi,” Skye snickered, pulling the other two away down the corner. “Well,” she paused to consider. “Mostly. I trust her ability to always look utterly put together and stunning no matter what happens, anyway.”

“Maybe I can get her to teach me a few tricks before Thor comes by again,” Jane mused. “What?” as the other two looked at her. “Bobbi’s contouring is fabulous!”

“You don’t need makeup help, you’re irritatingly gorgeous without any. Your wardrobe, on the other hand…” Jemma looked Jane’s oversized sweatpants and lumberjack shirt over with a disparaging eye. “THAT needs taking in hand.”

Skye grinned and left them to it as Jemma tugged Jane into her room. Heading back to her own room, Skye realised she’d better get ready too and headed for the shower.

Skye was just zipping up her dress when Darcy knocked on her door. She’d had a line all ready to say, too, and she knew just how skilled Bobbi was at transforming even ugly ducklings into swans - but the way Darcy looked made her trip over her tongue and tangle her words completely.

"Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong." She bashed herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand. “God. I’m an idiot.”

Darcy laughed softly, reached out to her. “It’s all right. I didn’t even recognise myself in the mirror. Bobbi’s a magician.”

“Yeah, Hunter says  _ witch _ , but I’m pretty sure your term is correct,” Skye agreed, taking Darcy’s hands and looking her over. “Not that she’s done anything that exceptional to your face, you’re always that beautiful! But you in that dress, well… is it any wonder I tripped over my own tongue?”

“This old thing,” Darcy tried for nonchalant, but couldn’t help the broad smile as she looked down at her dress. “I’d never have picked it out for me in a million years, but… three guys fell over their own feet staring at me just walking from my room to here, and Fitz wasn’t even one of them!”

Laughing, Skye drew her close. Went in for the kiss before pausing. “Will your lipstick smudge?”

“Bobbi assured me it won’t. No matter how much you kiss me.” Darcy pulled her in the rest of the way with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  __  
>  (It’s possible that there may be a BBG one-shot born out of this where Peggy Carter and Natasha create the SHAGGER kit. I’m very sorry.)   
> 


	12. Rumlow/Rollins/Darcy, for libertinem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_May 4 -_ ** _ "Make me." Jack/Brock/Darcy, for libertinem _

“I’m warning you now,” Brock said, “he’s the worst patient in the known universe.”

Darcy laughed with disbelief. “What, worse than you?”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, you know how much of an asshole you were when you were laid up with that fractured wrist a couple of months ago. He can’t be worse than that.”

“I’ll remember this next time you have a head cold and claim to be on the verge of death,” Brock warned. Darcy laughed at him. “No, but seriously, Jack is a terrible patient at the best of times, but this time, the medics got to him before I did and gave him morphine.”

“Which is good, right? He’s in pain!”

“Yes, the morphine takes away the pain, but… you know how most people, they get happy and dreamy on it? Not Jack.” They’d reached the door to Jack’s hospital room at last and Brock turned the handle. “Be my guest,” he invited Darcy to enter ahead of him. She gave him a suspicious look.

“So if he doesn’t get happy, how does he get?”

“Aggressive,” Brock sighed, just as Jack’s booming voice filled the air.

“Rumlow! Come and let me out of these fucking restraints, NOW!”

“Restraints?” Darcy cast a shocked look over her shoulder before hurrying into the room and going to Jack’s side. “Oh, my poor Jacky, what have they done to you?” she cooed, seeing the straps binding his forearms to the metal bed frame.

“Restrained him to stop him tearing the bandage off his leg, his IV out and storming out of here bleeding all over the place,” Brock said dryly, closing the door. “No, Darcy, don’t…” as he saw her unfastening one of the thick leather straps.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, “Jack’s not going to do anything like that. Are you?” as she unfastened the second strap. “You’re going to stay right here and be a good boy and let the nice medical staff make you all better again, aren’t you?”

Jack glared up at her, green eyes meeting blue. “Don’t want to,” he said mulishly.

“Jack, you have a bullet hole through your leg. You’re staying here,” Darcy said a little more firmly.

“Make me,” he growled harshly, pushing himself to sit upright, groping for the IV in his hand to yank it out.

Darcy cast Brock a horrified, despairing look over her shoulder. He folded his arms and smirked at her, the asshole.

Although, seeing his muscles bunching up nicely under his black T-shirt when he did that as usual sent her mind off down a one-way track into a porn fantasy…

… which gave her an idea.

“All right then,” turning back to Jack, she hastily scrambled up on the bed and straddled his hips.

“What?” temporarily distracted from trying to pull his IV out, Jack blinked up at her.

“You said, make you stay here. I can do that.” Looking back at Brock, Darcy grinned at him. “Or did you want to bet against me being able to flip him from  _ aggressive  _ to  _ horny _ ?” She could already feel Jack hardening against her through the thin hospital gown that was all he was wearing.

Laughing, Brock unfolded his arms and flipped the lock on the door closed. “Sweetheart, I’ve learned better than to bet against you in anything.”

“Then you better get over here. Because I’m pretty sure it’s going to take both of us to keep him distracted and busy, at least until the morphine wears off!”


	13. Steve/Bucky/Skye, for ananova55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 5** \- “This is mine. Are we clear?” Steve/Bucky/Skye, for ananova55

“Now,” Skye set the tray down on the table, “this is yours.”

The two supersoldiers looked at the huge bowl of popcorn, the plates of assorted snacks, and looked back up at her.

“Just for us?” Bucky asked.

“Yup. All yours. I didn’t even invite Clint and Nat over.”

“Yum,” Steve said, poised to dive in.

“And _this_ ,” she set a bowl down beside the tray, “is mine. Are we clear?”

They looked at the small bowl.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bucky asked.

“If you think it’s a small - a _very_ small - portion of Natasha’s famous homemade Russian dark-chocolate-vodka mousse, yes. You are correct. And it is MINE.”

“But,” Steve said.

Bucky’s hand was already stealing forward. Skye smacked it firmly with her spoon, clinking off the metal. “ _Mine_ ,” she said warningly.

“But!”

“No!” She scooped the precious bowl up quickly, clutching it to her. “Dammit, I knew I should have eaten it in the kitchen!”

“Sharing is caring,” Bucky told her.

“We could _all_ share,” Steve put in.

Glancing from one to the other, Skye suddenly realised they’d backed her into a corner. Sighing, she surrendered to the inevitable. “You’d better make it worth my while,” she warned.

“Well,” Bucky said, a familiar glint in his blue eyes, “how does licking it off your quivering naked body sound?” He dipped a fingertip in the mousse, traced it lightly over Skye’s lips. She licked at her lips, his finger, instinctively. Sucking his finger into her mouth, her eyes locked with his.

Steve made a hungry little sound, hands reaching for the buttons on Skye’s blouse even as his finger dipped into the bowl. A moment later he swiped it across the top of her breasts and bent his head to lick and suck the sweet treat off.

Skye’s knees buckled, and Steve caught her with a low chuckle. “Come on. Let’s take this to the bedroom. Bring that bowl, Buck. And don’t you dare eat any on the way there!”


	14. Bucky/Kitty, for madlovve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_May 6 -_ ** _"Where do you think you're going?" Kitty/Bucky, for madlovve_
> 
> _(note; I have no idea if this is canon or not, but I’m declaring that Kitty can’t phase through vibranium for the sake of the story)_

“So all you can tell me is that it’s in here, somewhere?” Kitty looked at the blueprints of the storage building and then up at Hank. He shrugged.

“Sorry, little cat. I know, it’s a big place, not easy to get into.”

“It would be a lot easier if Stark was talking to us right now,” Kitty muttered darkly, shooting a glare across the room at Logan, who affected not to hear. “Tell me again why Kurt can’t go?”

“Because I do not think I could recognise component,” Kurt said sadly. “Not clever enough. Not like Kitty-cat.”

“Well, if they catch me I’m expecting you to come on in and rescue my ass pdq, yeah?”

“Not catch Kitty-cat,” Kurt gave her a side-arm hug. “How would they hold you, eh? All will be fine.”

She tried to hold onto Kurt’s faith in her as she crept quietly through the woods surrounding the Avengers’ facility. It shouldn’t be impossible, after all Ant-Man had broken into the place and stolen something; but they’d probably beefed up security since then. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and passed through the wall.

She’d been searching in total silence for about ten minutes, a penlight gripped between her teeth, when a deep voice said “And who might you be?”

Kitty shrieked, the penlight falling to the floor, and leaped backwards, fully intending to phase through the wall. A powerful hand grabbed her upper arm, halting her progress briefly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out of here, sucker!” She phased out of his grip.

Except she didn’t.

“Is that right,” the deep voice drawled. “Lights, please.”

Overhead lights clicked on, blinding Kitty briefly. She blinked a few times, looking up at the man who was holding onto her.

The Winter Soldier.

“Your arm is actually _vibranium_?” she said in disbelief.

He blinked long black lashes over startlingly blue eyes. “Yes, it is. And what exactly are you, little thief?” He gave her a long look up and down. “I feel like I should make an _Oliver Twist_ reference, but I don’t think you’re a child, despite your size.” His gaze paused at her breasts, and Kitty was surprised to see a very masculine look of appreciation cross his face. “No, you’re not a child.”

She couldn’t help the blush. _Wow, that charm is lethal. I think my panties might have melted._

“I need a component,” she blurted. “It’s really important. I’m with the X-Men and we can’t just ask for it because Wolverine pissed Stark off. Again.”

“Join the club,” Bucky shrugged. “Is this one of those saving-the-world things?”

“Yes.”

“Same shit, different day. Tell you what. I’ll let you take it - if you’ll let me take _you_ out to dinner.”

It was an offer she couldn’t turn down, even if she’d wanted to. “Deal.”

He let her go. “So have you found it yet?”

“Nope,” she admitted. “I don’t suppose you’ll help me look?”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

Kitty gave him her best adorable smile and fluttered her lashes.

Bucky laughed. “All right. So what’s your name, tiny gorgeous woman? I’m Bucky.”

“Kitty,” she said in response.

“Котенок,” he said softly, smiling. “It’s good to meet you, Kitty.”


	15. Darcy/Howard Stark, for gray-horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_May 6 -_ ** _"Come here often?" Darcy/Howard Stark, for gray-horizons_
> 
> _I’m… not sure this went in the direction you intended, but… a plot grenade went off, and THIS happened!_

The day Darcy got sucked into a portal through time, she was really really glad that she was wearing a dress.

And not just any dress, a cute little retro number with a flared skirt, a sweetheart neckline and a wide belt. She didn’t look at all out of place in 1951, which was extremely fortunate, since that was where she wound up.

Although she did look rather out of place standing in the middle of what appeared to be an industrial storage facility.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Darcy said out loud.

“Miss!” a tall, startled foreman-type marched up to her. “What are you doing? This is a secured area!”

She looked at the stitched patch on his shirt saying _Stark Industries_ , the old-fashioned clothing, and said the only thing she could think of at that moment.

“It’s really, really important that you tell me what date it is.”

“March third, 1951,” the guy said, startled. “Um - have you been drinking, miss? You need to come with me, please.”

“By any chance, is Howard Stark here?” Darcy said desperately. Because she’d just recognised the layout of the buildings nearby. This was the storage facility that had eventually become the Avengers’ headquarters. Which meant Jane’s portal had thrown her through time instead of space, not that she’d meant to go _anywhere_ , she was really going to have to talk to Jane about increasing the safety radius… _if_ she got back. And she had the distinct feeling that ‘getting back’ was highly dependent on staying very close to where she’d ‘landed’.

The foreman’s frown cleared. “Oh, you’re with Mr Stark?” He looked her up and down. “Yes. Yes, of course you are. This way, please, miss.”

The moment she saw Howard Stark, bending over a glowing blue cube in his shirtsleeves, Darcy realised exactly what had gone wrong. Because that was the fucking _Tesseract_ , a ‘door into space’ as Clint and Erik both called it.

“That’s really dangerous and I don’t think you should be messing about with it,” she said instinctively.

Howard’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to face her. “And what would you know about it, hmm?” he drawled, in a voice so like Tony’s that Darcy was knocked back a step.

_I’m going to have to tell him the truth._

“I think it’s the reason why I got sucked through a space-time portal from 2016. Do you come here often, to work with it?”

Howard just stared at her before closing the lid of the case containing the Tesseract. “I think this calls for some whisky,” he said, offering her his arm.

It called for a _lot_ of whisky, which made things a lot harder for Darcy not to tell him anything about the future. Howard was really terribly charming, and very good-looking, and when he demonstrated the really rather comfortable pull-out bed in his office, she’d had a little too much whisky to have the common sense or willpower to decline.

She woke up in the middle of the night with a strange, urgent feeling tugging at her; scrambled up from a sleeping Howard and tugged her dress back on, ran outside barefoot when she couldn’t find her shoes. The portal glimmered in the distance, blue-white, and Darcy ran headlong for it without looking back.

Five weeks later, when the reason for the queasiness she’d been feeling every morning finally hit her in the head like a ton of bricks, she realised that she hadn’t fucked up the past.

She’d fucked up the _future_.


	16. Phil/Bucky for fadesealcat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _May 6_  
>  **  
>  _\- "Can I sit on your lap?" Phil/Bucky, for fadesealcat aka Sealcat here on Ao3_
> 
> _Featuring Bonus Sex Pollen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smutty one!

The Director of SHIELD seemed like a nice enough guy, Bucky thought. Certainly had more common sense than anyone who’d held that position since Peggy Carter herself. Although not, apparently, enough to keep him from picking up things that really shouldn’t be picked up.

Things which turned out to be sex pollen grenades.

One of which promptly went off in said Director’s face.

It wouldn’t affect Bucky, of course. Hydra had never been able to come up with a formula which the serum-enhanced weren’t immune to. But the Director got a faceful of the stuff and was already very flushed, pupils dilated.

“Lock down the lab and decontaminate,” Bucky ordered quickly into his comm. “The Director’s been exposed, looks like sex pollen.”

“Got it,” Natasha said in his ear. “You prepared to handle it?”

“Yes - is he…?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s not a consent issue. I happen to know that he has original vintage Bucky Barnes trading cards stashed away with those Captain America ones,” Natasha said laughingly in his ear before the comm went dead.

Phil was breathing fast, jerking at his tie to loosen it, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Easy,” Bucky said soothingly, reaching out to touch Phil’s arm lightly. “Easy.”

Phil was biting at his lips, reddening them, his breathing coming in quick desperate pants. “Please,” he said. “Please - can I sit on your lap?”

Coulson was very sexy like this, Bucky realised, his buttoned-up, stiff facade crumbled entirely. Finding a sturdy office chair Bucky sat down in it, and almost immediately had Coulson straddling his lap, grinding desperately against him.

“Hey,” Bucky tried to say, but it came out as a grunt as Coulson mashed his mouth against Bucky’s.

 _That’s quite a big dose of sex pollen. Poor guy must be frantic._ Instead of arguing, Bucky just shrugged mentally and reached down with his metal hand to rip Coulson’s pants to shreds, his flesh hand sliding in between them and finding - _oh, wow, that was really quite an impressive erection._

Phil moaned into Bucky’s mouth as cool metal fingers traced over his ass, a strong hand wrapping around his swollen, aching cock. “Please,” he whimpered, “please.”

“I got you,” Bucky said soothingly as Phil tore his mouth away and buried his face in Bucky’s neck. “It’s okay, Coulson. Phil. I got you.”

Phil writhed against him. “ _Please_ ,” he said again.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Hand. Please, your hand - I need your fingers…” even under the influence of the drug, Phil found it extremely hard to admit the kinky desires he’d been harbouring for a long time now. “Inside me.”

“Let me switch hands…”

“No. No, I want - _those_ fingers.”

Bucky hesitated until Phil sobbed out another “Please, Bucky!” against his neck.

“Okay. If that’s what you want, but tell me if it hurts, all right?”

The sounds that came out of Phil’s mouth were the furthest thing possible from pain as Bucky gently worked in first one intricately jointed metal finger, then a second. It had to be uncomfortable without lube, but Phil threw his head back, shuddering, shouting Bucky’s name. Hot jets of his seed suddenly splattering Bucky’s hand in between them, soaking both their shirts.

“Oh Christ that’s hot,” Bucky couldn’t help but groan.

Phil groaned against his neck. “Thank you - thank you.”

“That’s okay. I’ve seen the effects of this stuff before.”

“We should get out of here.”

“Um,” Bucky said, “I’m afraid not. Because in about ten minutes, you’re going to need my help again.”

“Oh,” Phil lifted his head to look Bucky in the eyes. “Is that - is that all right?”

“Oh hell yeah. But you know what? I reckon that couch over there is a pull-out bed. And I think we’d be a lot more comfortable on that while I explore what _else_ you find interesting about my arm.”

Phil blushed as Bucky carried him easily over to the couch. “Not just your arm,” he confessed as Bucky put him down.

“I’m really hopin’ this ain’t just the drug talking,” Bucky said as Phil pulled eagerly at his clothes, “because if this is a one-time thing I’m gonna be pretty damn disappointed.”


	17. Darcy/Rollins for strycnosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Belated Birthday Gift for strycnosa, April 3**
> 
> _“You’re very sexy when you’re angry” Darcy/Rollins_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This one could fit into canon, if Rollins was leading the SHIELD minders who took Jane to Tromsø when Avengers was happening._

 

She’d always had a weakness for the big, muscled, scary type, Darcy mused, watching Agent Rollins yelling at his minions. Competent agents all, they’d still been no match for Jane on a mission. She and Darcy had been just about to board a plane for New York - in London, where they’d had to get a connection - when Rollins caught up with them. There’d been an impressive amount of glowering ever since he literally hauled them back to Tromsø by the scruffs of their necks, but she hadn’t actually seen him lose his temper until now, when Jane was finally safely locked up.

 _Literally_ locked up, in a comfortable bedroom that was nonetheless now locked from the outside. Darcy had fully expected to be locked in with Jane, but Rollins had dragged her into this briefing room and shoved her into a chair with a menacing growl of;

“You stay put. I’ll deal with you later.”

She should have been absolutely terrified, especially considering the dark glare that accompanied the words before he turned his attention to his hapless subordinates.

_Instead, I’m sitting here feeling hopelessly turned on and wishing I could get some alone time to play out this fantasy I’ve got brewing in my mind of Agent Rollins ‘dealing with me’ very roughly indeed…_

“Miss Lewis!”

“Baah!” she shot upright, snapped out of her reverie.

“Did you just bleat?”

“No! Nope, not bleating. Um, meeping with terror?” she said hopefully, looking up at Rollins as he towered over her. The room had cleared, everyone else clearly fleeing his wrath as quickly as they dared once he’d finished browbeating them.

“You’re not terrified of me.” He folded his arms, biceps bulging thickly. “If you were, you wouldn’t have sneaked into my office to steal your and Dr. Foster’s passports, and swiped my AMEX card to book your plane tickets with at the same time.”

Was that… something that might almost be _amusement_ in his gravelly tone? Darcy thought fast.

“I probably _should_ be scared of you, but… I’m afraid I think you’re very sexy when you’re angry. Kind of takes the edge off the terror,” she shrugged.

Rollins looked completely startled. “You what?”

“Don’t tell me nobody ever said that to you before? Your voice gets all deep and snarly and you either fold your arms or clench your fists, both of which do very nice things for your arm muscles,” Darcy pointed out. “Plus you get this angry stance thing going on, which, _yeah_ ,” since he was standing over her in that particular posture at the moment, his muscled thighs were braced right in front of her face. One look and her brain was completely derailed again. “Um,” she said vaguely, staring.

“Miss _Lewis_!” he actually sounded scandalised.

“Darcy. You should definitely call me Darcy. You do when I’m dreaming anyway…”

“Are you _drunk_?” he leaned forward and peered into her eyes.

“Well, of course I am. I burgled your office and was heading for an alien invasion of New York, I drank half a bottle of tequila at Heathrow while we were waiting for our flight,” Darcy said indignantly. “It’s wearing off, though. Pity,” she gave him another wistful look up and down.

His hard mouth quirked into a grin, the scar on his chin tugging it crooked in a quite appallingly appealing way. “You’re outrageous. Come on. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll read you the riot act in the morning.”

“Couldn’t we do that in your room?” Darcy asked hopefully as he hauled her to her feet. “I mean, you know, you could tell me off very sternly and then punish me with a good spanking. I’d be all for that.”

“Christ, you’re unbearably tempting,” he grated out, stooped to give her a hard, punishing kiss which Darcy happily melted into.

“Was that a yes?” she asked hopefully when he let her go, her arms still wrapped around his neck.

“No. But ask me again tomorrow when you’re sober and maybe I’ll change my mind.” His stare was heated.

“I can do that,” Darcy agreed. “I’ll just have to take care of things myself tonight, then.”

Rollins’ groan was heartfelt as he led her to her room. “I’m finding myself seriously hoping that you _do_ remember all of this in the morning.”

“Oh, I will,” Darcy turned to look up at him as he pushed the door open. “I’m not all _that_ drunk.”

“Drunk enough that consent’s an issue. I’m in enough trouble for this stunt you pulled, Darcy.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I told you, you can punish me for it…”

“Go to bed!”

“Bor-ing. All right. But before I do,” she reached up, put her hand on his huge shoulder to tug him down towards her, “what’s your name, Agent Rollins? Your first name, I mean.”

“Jack,” he said, on a slow breath out, gazing down into her blue eyes. “It’s Jack.”

 


	18. Rumlow/Darcy for pyrousseau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_May 10 -_ ** _"I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked" Rumlow/Darcy for pyrousseau_
> 
> _Set in some AU where Darcy and Rumlow both work for Coulson, OK?_

“Hey, I heard you were looking for me?” Darcy stuck her head into Coulson’s office. He waved her in and she took a seat without being invited. “Whassup, DC?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Daisy,” Phil said dryly.

“I do work in her tech department,” Darcy pointed out.

“Mm. Well, capable as you’ve shown yourself to be there, I do need you as more than just another hacker. Frankly, they’re a dime a dozen. Someone with both a political science degree and your cool head when faced with extraordinary threats? Not so easy to come by.”

About halfway through Phil’s little talk, Darcy started paying attention. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m pulling you out of the office and giving you some field training. I’m desperately short of field agents who think with what’s between their ears instead of what’s in their gun holsters.”

That made her snicker. “I don’t even know HOW to use a gun!”

“Which is why you’re getting an intensive course from one of our best. STRIKE Commander Rumlow.”

“Ruthless Rumlow? That hardass? What did I do to deserve this?” Darcy near-wailed.

“You know that saying about the reward for a job well done, Lewis?” Phil half-smiled, returning his attention to the documents strewn over his desk. “Dismissed.”

She dragged her feet on the way out. Rumlow was waiting for her outside the door, the cynical little smirk on his mouth as he looked her up and down making her want to punch him. Not that it would do any good, he looked as though he’d been chiselled out of Italian marble by a master sculptor, that tight black T-shirt was doing all sorts of nice things for his chest muscles…

_… do not lust after your new SO, Darcy, terrible, TERRIBLE idea._

Rumlow didn’t say anything, just gestured imperiously for her to accompany him. With a soft sigh under her breath, Darcy fell into step beside him. He shortened his long stride to stay with her, she noticed, appreciating the small gesture.

They were heading for the shooting range, Darcy realised dismally. Of course they were. Rumlow led her over to a counter where half a dozen handguns were laid out.

“Pick one,” he told her. “Hold them all, get a feel for the weight, see which one feels most comfortable in your hand.”

“I don’t want to,” Darcy said mulishly.

Rumlow arched a black brow at her. “Such a little pacifist,” he said mockingly. “I assure you, Agent Lewis, you won’t feel the same way about guns when you’re under fire in the field.”

“I did just fine in London against Dark Elves without one!” she fired back.

“Really? The way I heard it, you got your ass saved by a pimply grad student.”

That snapped her teeth shut. She glared at him, and he stared right back, still with that annoying black brow arched.

“So pick yourself a gun, and I’ll teach you what to do with it.”

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked,” she muttered sulkily under her breath, surveying the guns in front of her unhappily.

She didn’t even hear him move behind her. Not until warm breath rushed over her ear and he murmured “Well, that could be arranged.”

Goosebumps sprang up on Darcy’s arms, all the hairs on the back of her neck stood up; even her nipples leapt to attention, because the tone of his voice was very different to anything she’d heard from him before. Low and sultry, it made her think of hot nights and tangled limbs, of the way Rumlow’s powerful body would feel poised above her. Of the orders he could give her.

Unable to move a muscle, she swallowed. “You’re my SO.”

“And SHIELD anti-fraternization regs ain’t what they used to be.” The very tips of his fingers ghosted lightly over her forearm, over the tiny hairs all standing on end there. “If it means you learn to take my orders willingly, I’ve got no problem with it.”

Darcy’s breath came quicker as she made herself turn around, look up at him. This close, she could see that his eyes weren’t as dark as she’d always thought; their deep setting made them look black, but they were actually a beautiful whisky-gold colour.

Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue nervously, she asked “Would it be a one-time thing?”

His hard mouth curved into a smile, his eyes gleamed with amusement. “Well, darlin’. That’ll depend on just how much I need to discipline you, won’t it?”

_I’m doomed_ , Darcy realised as he took her hand and led her out of the range, heading for the accommodation wing. _Utterly, totally doomed._

_Reckon I’ll probably die happy, though..._

 


	19. Skye/Steve for writingcalmsthemind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_May 11_ ** _\- “I'd hold on to something if I were you." Steve/Skye, for writingcalmsthemind_

“I'd hold on to something if I were you. Probably me."

Steve laughed in disbelief. Looking up at him, Daisy shrugged. “Okay. It’s your funeral.” Holding her hands out by her sides, palms down, she added “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He ended up hiding under his shield as boulders bounced and crashed all around them. He quickly noticed, though, that none of them came within about three feet of her, and edged over rather sheepishly at last to slip his arm around her waist.

“Told you that you’d want to hold onto me,” her smile was distinctly smug, he noticed, dipped in for a quick kiss.

“I always want to hold onto you. You done?”

“Nearly. Just want to make quite sure that nobody else will be accessing these underground tunnels.” The quakes continued for a few more moments before she stopped and lifted her hands. “There. All done.”

She’d looked glorious standing there untouched in the midst of the devastation she wrought, like some kind of ancient Greek or Roman goddess, and with a sudden flash of clarity Steve realised that Daisy’s kind were exactly what those ancient deities had been, Inhumans whose powers made them worshipped as gods.

His Catholic conscience wanted to throw up its hands in horror, but Steve Rogers, skinny kid from Brooklyn, entirely understood. A being with that kind of power could easily raise themselves up as a god, if unopposed.

Fortunately, his Daisy had no desire to be worshipped, and she would no more stand for false deities than he would.

“You were amazing,” he murmured in her ear, making her laugh as she turned in his arms to look up at him.

“Well, maybe next time you’ll listen to me?”

“I promise.” His adrenaline was still flowing fast, as always after a fight, and she must have recognised it in him because her eyes gleamed.

“You know, it’ll be at least twenty minutes before we get picked up.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed dazedly, because that look in Daisy’s eyes drove all reason out of his head. She grinned and took his hand.

“I spotted a patch of nice soft-looking grass over there between those trees. Or, you know, you could just hold me up against a tree. I’m good, either way.”

“Minx,” Steve groaned, but he followed more than willingly as Daisy led him to the trees, fumbling at the fastenings on his suit with his free hand. “ _You’d_ better hold on to _me_ now,” he said teasingly as he hoisted her off her feet, legs around his waist, her back up against a tree.

 


	20. Frank Castle/Darcy for thatpunkmaximoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 11 -** "You wouldn't dare!" Frank/Darcy for thatpunkmaximoff
> 
> _Set later in the same AU as[Excellent Taste In Dogs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/14503855) :)_

“Darcy?” Frank opened the door, calling her name. There was no answer, so he fetched Buddy’s leash. The pit bull cross bounced excitedly as Frank came to collect him.

“Come on, pal. We’ll take a walk and get some dinner. I’m sure she won’t be long.” He texted her on the way out. _Indian or Thai?_

_Thai please, angel,_ the response came back within a minute _. Hopefully be home in about half an hour._

Frank grinned, tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket. He was the furthest possible thing from an angel. Except that’s what Darcy always called him. _Guardian Angel of Hell’s Kitchen_ , she said. _If they have a Devil, then they should have an angel too._

He chuckled quietly to himself at the thought of what Red would say if he knew.  He and Red got along pretty well these days. “Did you actually get a hobby?” Red asked him the last time they met up on a rooftop. “Or is it a woman?”

Red must have heard his pulse increase, because Daredevil made a startled noise. “Huh, it is a woman!”

“Found my soulmate,” Frank admitted. “And no, she ain’t some kind of murderous madwoman runnin’ amok on the streets of some other district.”

“Never thought she would be,” came the quietly murmured response. “Well, reckon she’s good for you, Frank. Take care of her.”

“I intend to,” he’d responded fervently.

He took a detour now. It was late. While he was certain Darcy would take a cab home from work, he’d rather walk her. And Buddy would be glad to see her, anyway.

He stopped at a Thai restaurant on the way to order dinner; they could pick it up on the way back. His timing was perfect, Darcy was just walking out of the Tower as he came striding up the block. She spotted the dog first, of course; Darcy and her unerring instinct for dogs.

“Bunny! Frank, my darling,” she stepped close and reached up to kiss him, arms sliding around his waist. He winced slightly as she brushed over the cut on his back. Red had stitched it shut - he’d stitched two uglier ones on the other man - but it still hurt like hell. Darcy’s lips thinned as she caught his wince.

“We’ll take a look at that when I get home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was so whipped, but damned if he didn’t love it. He was Darcy’s slave just as much as the dog was, and that fool animal was currently lying on his back in the middle of the sidewalk whimpering happily as Darcy rubbed his tummy.

They headed back hand-in-hand, picked up the food on the way. Ate a companionable meal. Afterwards they were sitting quietly together, Buddy snoozing on Darcy’s feet, when she fixed him with a direct look.

“All right. Get that shirt off. Let’s see your back.”

“It’s fine, Darce. Only two stitches.”

“Now.”

Frank was up and unbuttoning his shirt before his brain caught up. God damn it, when she used that tone… with a sigh he turned his back to her.

“Those are _terrible_ stitches, who put them in, a blind man?”

He had to chuckle. “Funnily enough, yeah.”

“This is not a joking matter, that’s going to scar!” Darcy scowled. “I’m taking them out and I’m going to put fresh ones in.”

Frank knew better than to argue with her. With a groan he settled down in the chair again, leaning forward with his elbows on the table as she went to wash her hands and fetch her stitching kit. It was by no means the first time she’d patched him up - she’d gone and convinced Banner to give her lessons after the first time - and she set five tiny, neat, straight stitches after cutting Red’s two rough ones out.

“There,” she said at last, carefully taping on a dressing. “Now be _careful_.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t you sass me, I hear that tone in your voice.” Darcy peeled her gloves off and tossed them in the garbage, put her hands on her hips and glared at Frank.

He grinned at her, standing up and shifting about experimentally. No real pain, no tugging; as usual she’d done an amazing job. He saw the way her eyes ran over his bare chest then, the tip of her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

“No point in giving me orders if I don’t sass you back, eh? And besides,” he stalked towards her, “sometimes you like it when I’m disobedient.”

“Frank, no,” she saw the wicked glint in his eyes. “Frank, your stitches!”

“They’ll be fine.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she yelled at him crossly, already knowing she was fighting a losing battle. There was no arguing with Frank once he’d set himself on a course, and the course he was currently on was almost certainly going to have him between her legs in a matter of minutes. She couldn’t help a shudder of desire at the thought.

Strong hands curved around her waist, lifted her easily to the counter, and he was pushing in and kissing her, tugging her skirt up and her panties down so fast her head reeled. Or maybe that was just the way he kissed, fierce and yet tender, his dark stubble rasping her chin. With a moan of desire Darcy gave herself up to him, sliding her arms around his neck and gasping out his name against his lips as his fingers thrust deep into her already-soaking core.

 


	21. Brock/Maria for sian22redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**May 13** \- “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.” Brock/Maria (from 'Her Dirty Little Secret'), for sian22redux_
> 
>  
> 
> _If you haven’t read[Her Dirty Little Secret](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2680271/chapters/5994827), BEWARE. It’s a choose-your-own-ending fic and some of the endings are very, VERY dark. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This ficlet occurs earlier in the same ‘verse._

There weren’t many who dared to be openly insubordinate to the Deputy Director of SHIELD. Even less with a functioning brain. After Maria had reassigned half a dozen to the shittiest outposts SHIELD had to offer, even the dumb ones wised up.

 _Why do I always have to be so one hundred percent perfect?_ She wondered, at the end of a particularly shitty day, flopping into her chair and gazing glumly at the incredibly long queue of emails waiting in her inbox. The answer was obvious, of course. _Because I’m not a man. A man wouldn’t HAVE to be constantly proving himself._ Sighing, she massaged her head where her tight French braid was making her scalp ache before blowing out her cheeks and reaching for the keyboard. _May as well get started. I’m too much of a perfectionist to leave this until tomorrow, besides which, the queue will only be longer by then…_

Two hours later, she got up to get another cup of coffee before going back to her desk. Standing at the window for a moment looking down over the bright lights of DC, she felt a moment of melancholy.

 _Am I ever going to be normal like those people down there? Go on dates, have a relationship?_ A moment later, she was scoffing at herself. _You don’t want to be ‘normal’, Maria, that’s your idea of hell. And what man could tolerate being second fiddle to SHIELD in your life, anyway?_

There was a sharp knock at her door then, making her startle and almost spill her coffee. Setting it carefully on the desk, she said “Come in,” wondering who it could be, this late. Fury was out of town, as was Coulson. Hand was at the Hub…

The door opened to reveal a broad-shouldered figure clad all in black, stepping into the office with a lethal, calculated grace in every motion. Smiling at her, his white teeth bright in his tanned, stubbled face, Brock Rumlow said;

“Good evening, Deputy Director Hill.”

“Commander Rumlow.” Something about his stance set her on edge and her voice came out even colder and crisper than usual. His smile widened, took on a sardonic twist. “Can I help you?”

“Just got your email, ma’am.” There was something feral in his dark eyes, in the way he stepped forward to the desk, braced his hands on it, leaning towards her.

 _Oh, God_ … she remembered. It had been one of the first messages in her queue, marked Urgent; the latest STRIKE mission report.

It had been a shoddy piece of crap and she’d sent a very sharp note to Commander Rumlow telling him to get his head out of his ass and fix it pronto.

 _My tone might have been a LITTLE bit rude_ … because Rumlow was pretty damn near her equal in the SHIELD hierarchy. On the other hand, he’d been around long enough to know what constituted an acceptable mission report and what damned well didn’t.

“Was there something you failed to comprehend, Commander?” Maria let a little more ice into her tone.

Rumlow just watched her in silence from those unnervingly dark eyes for a long moment. Then he turned around, closed the door, and stalked around the desk towards her.

“This may surprise you, ma’am, but I have absolutely no issues with your appointment as Deputy Director. You’ve shown yourself to be more than capable of handling the position.”

Maria blinked, because his tone and his words really didn’t match up. Still, she wasn’t about to back down. She met him stare for stare as he moved closer.

“So what is your problem?”

“I just wanted to make it quite clear that it’s not you, _specifically_ , I have an issue with. I’d have an issue with anyone who hauled me up on filing a shoddy report that was, however, clearly marked _PRELIMINARY_ and was typed on a handcomp on the way back from a 72-hour mission where I lost a fucking good agent and nearly got my own fucking head blown off because of shitty intelligence from here at HQ!”

He was actually shaking with rage, Maria realised. And guiltily, she thought that she hadn’t actually looked at the timestamps of the mission. Or spotted the PRELIMINARY header.

“Oh,” she said inadequately.

“For the record, _Deputy Director_ , you’ll have a completed report on your desk by tomorrow morning. I didn’t respond before now because I was out of the Triskelion telling Agent Sutherland’s mother in person that I don’t even have enough left of her daughter to bury. I do beg your pardon if you find filing my report correctly to be more important than that duty, but I don’t and I never fucking will!” He was clearly absolutely seething as he turned on his heel and strode back towards the door.

“Wait a minute,” Maria snapped out. Rumlow whirled on his heel and stormed back towards her.

“For the record, ma’am? I’m not in the mood for any more orders tonight. I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked anyway.”

He was standing over her, breathing hard, not all that much taller than she was but at least twice her mass in solid muscle, and Maria was suddenly very, very aware of him as a man, a very _masculine_ man. The kind of man who she’d always firmly told herself she didn’t find attractive. At all.

She swallowed.

After a few seconds of electric silence, Rumlow cocked his head. “You’re not the type to give orders in bed, are you,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

Maria thought she’d long ago trained herself out of blushing, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks now, scalding her pale skin.

“In fact, I reckon you like to _take_ orders. Let someone else take control, for once.” His eyelids hooded, eyes gleaming darkly. “Am I right - _Maria_?”

She couldn’t speak. Lips pressed together tightly, she gave one small, jerky nod of her head, and he took a step closer, close enough that her breasts just brushed his broad chest.

“Yes or no?” was all he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, and his mouth was on hers, ravaging, strong hands jerking at the zips of her uniform, baring her body to his gaze. She reached out blindly to pull at his clothes, wanting to feel his skin on hers, and got her fingers lightly slapped away.

“No you don’t. On your knees.”

She almost whimpered with the sheer relief of letting him take control, fell to her knees obediently with her lips parted, and eagerly took his offered cock into her mouth, soaking up his grunted words of praise and not caring in the slightest that at any moment the door could open to show whoever might come in the Deputy Director of SHIELD on her knees sucking the STRIKE Commander’s cock.

Rumlow came down her throat, and Maria more than half-expected him to just zip up and walk out, but instead he stooped and took hold of her upper arms, pulling her up.

“Lay back on the desk,” he ordered, “I’m gonna let some of that bitchy tension out of you.”

“I’m n…” she couldn’t even finish the word as two thick fingers plunged hard inside her.

“Yes, you are,” Rumlow said harshly. “Bot not tomorrow, eh? Tomorrow everyone’s gonna wonder what’s got Hardass Hill in such a good mood.”

She wanted to hate him for using the nickname she knew all too well was used in whispers behind her back, but the bastard knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers, and now his thumb was joining in, chafing quick circles over her clit…

He had to put his hand over her mouth to stifle her shrieks when she came, her heels drumming against the desk drawers with the sheer intensity of it, and afterwards chuckled darkly, pulling her up and off the desk, carrying her slim form easily over to the couch in the corner of the office.

“Looks like one time ain’t gonna be enough for you, eh?”

 _It certainly isn’t_ , she thought dazedly, as he pushed her down and knelt between her thighs. A very small, quiet part of her brain noted clinically that this was a really terrible idea, but as Rumlow’s skilled tongue set to work, Maria told her conscience to fuck right off and lay back to enjoy herself.


	22. Darcy/Steve for lifeliver1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _May 15 -_  
>  **  
>  _"What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." Darcy/Steve, for lifeliver1989_

**_May 15 -_ ** _"What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." Darcy/Steve, for lifeliver1989_

Every time. Every time Steve looked at her like that and then pushed her down to the bed, kneeling down at her feet, Darcy went utterly weak inside. Steve Rogers was as stubborn as a mule, and when he got that look on his face, she knew that there was no way he was going to stop until she was writhing and screaming his name.

Not that she minded. Not in the least. She was already bubbling with anticipation, in fact, as he gently eased her clothes from her, fingers and lips tracing gentle patterns on her skin, making her shiver with anticipation as he approached but never quite touched her erogenous zones.

“Steve,” she whined, reaching out to grab onto him, but he moved far too quickly, grabbing onto her wrists.

“No. No, this is for you, Darcy.”

Her eyes widened as he reached down with his other hand, unfastening his belt. This was new.

“Are you okay with this?” Steve checked quietly, and she nodded hurriedly, biting at her lower lip. “Good. Tell me if it’s too tight.” Swiftly he wrapped the supple leather in a figure eight around her wrists before lashing it tightly to the bedpost. “Like that, all right?” He stooped to kiss her, tongue playing teasingly with hers as Darcy arched up, trying to get more of her skin in contact with his. “Easy, now. No hurry. We have _allll_ night.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Darcy moaned as he eased down the bed, lying down on his stomach between her legs.

Steve chuckled, eyes dancing wickedly.

“You’re such a little _shit_ ,” Darcy mumbled under her breath.

“Now, now. Language,” he chided, nipping lightly at the inside of her knee.

“You’re the _cause_ of the language!”

“I am not, it’s _your_ potty mouth.”

She growled and kicked at him, getting more frustrated by the second. Steve just laughed at her again and grabbed hold of her thighs, one in each big hand, lifting them high. “Just for that,” he said, “I’ll go _really_ slow.”

“You’re a maddening asshole I don’t know why I let you do this to me!” Darcy threw all caution to the wind and yelled it.

Steve’s only response was to bite her, a sharp little nip high up on her inner thigh. A sudden rush of sensation which made Darcy let out a wild, desperate moan, utterly in contrast to the words she’d just shouted at him.

“What a nice little sound,” he crooned as she shuddered with reaction. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

The noises she made as he suckled love bites all over the inside of her thighs were barely even human.


	23. Darcy/Logan for sheilalester71

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 18** \- _“Holy shit! Are you like an Iron Chef or something?” Darcy/Logan for[@sheilalester71 ](http://sheilalester71.tumblr.com/)(aka Shenandoah76209 on Ao3)_

How was he supposed to cook anything in this place? The fucking knives were all goddamned _blunt_. Logan dug into drawers, cursing under his breath, hunting for a sharpening stone. No luck. Slamming the last drawer, he took a deep breath, scowling at the meat he’d laid out on the counter. The other Avengers all seemed to live on a weird combination of rabbit food and protein shakes - well apart from Barton and his pizza problem, but that wasn’t Logan’s problem. The problem was that he wanted a decent meal and apparently he was going to have to make it for himself.

With blunt knives.

Sighing, he looked down at his fist. _Ah well. I suppose if I give them a good washing in hot soapy water, they’ll be pretty sterile, and at least they’re sharp…_

Darcy froze at the door of the kitchen, two empty coffee mugs in hand. She’d just been coming to put them in the dishwasher, maybe see if she could find something to eat. She really hadn’t been expecting to see the newest Avenger in there, apparently using three sharp blades at once to dice up vegetables with dizzying speed and accuracy.

“Holy shit,” she said jokingly. “Are you like, an Iron Chef or something?”

Logan’s head snapped up and he froze with his hand in mid-air. Darcy’s jaw dropped as she saw that the three blades were actually extruding _out of his hand_ , between his knuckles. As he turned a dark stare on her, she dropped the empty mugs, shattering at her feet, screamed and fled.

Logan looked at the space where the small, dark-haired young woman had stood, at the shards of pottery that were all that remained to prove she’d ever been there. And then he looked down at the three glittering adamantium blades on his right hand.

“Just my fuckin’ luck,” he muttered, “ta scare my soulmate outta her fuckin’ wits on first meetin’.”

Sighing, he _snicked_ the blades back into his hand. He’d better go find her and say something. Something romantic, to make up for scaring her silly.

Halfway out the door, he paused. “What the hell should I say? I don’t even know her name.” Maybe he’d ask Sam. The Falcon seemed to be pretty smooth with the ladies. Yeah, he’d find Sam…

Sam found him first, in the corridor outside, an amused grin on his face and a small, wide-eyed brunette hiding behind his broad back.

“Logan,” Sam said, “were you seriously using your claws to chop up vegetables?”

“All the knives in the kitchen were fuckin’ blunt,” Logan grunted, in what he was aware was an abject failure of an apology, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from those wide blue ones peeking out at him from behind Sam. _And fuck, now he couldn’t ask Sam for courtin’ advice… he had to say somethin’ NOW..._

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, hands out in front of him, palms up.

“I’m a dumbass, and you’re beautiful. Forgive me.”


	24. Fitz/OC, for theonewithwaytoomanyfandoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 19 -**   
>  "Kiss the hell out of me. Please." Fitz/OC, for theonewithwaytoomanyfandoms
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> I was asked for a Fitz/OC for this prompt. As many of you know I don’t ship FitzSimmons for personal reasons, but I’d love to see him get a love interest who I thought really suited him. Consequently, allow me to present Noelle Fairchild. She works in the Purchasing department for Phil Coulson’s SHIELD - someone has to source and arrange delivery of all the crazy and complicated components Fitz must need to make all his amazing inventions, after all! And she has a mountain-sized crush on our charmingly nerdy Scottish engineer’s brain. And his curly hair, his blue eyes, his checked shirts, and the way he always says thank you when she somehow comes up with something particularly obscure he really, really needs…  
> 

“Nerd alert,” Jenny, who had the cubicle facing the door, peeked over the top of the divider and hissed down at Noelle. “Your favourite Scottish engineer is on his way in.”

Noelle froze. _Oh God, oh God, he’s here, I didn’t expect him today, my hair needs washing_ … she smoothed at it frantically, bit at her lips to hopefully make them look full and pink since the lipstick she’d applied that morning had undoubtedly worn off by now.

“Noelle!” that voice said cheerfully behind her, and she spun on her office chair and smiled.

“Dr. Fitz. What can I do for you today?”

She heard Jenny snicker on the other side of the screen and thought rude thoughts at the other girl. Fitz smiled down at her.

“Actually - I brought you these. To say thank you.”

“What?” Astonished, she blinked at him. He wilted slightly.

“For getting those components I asked for so quickly. I know it can’t have been easy, how you manage to get them all on such short notice and under budget I can’t imagine. It’s very clever of you.”

_Me??? Dr Leopold Fitz, IQ off the charts, thinks I’M clever???_

“Just doing my job,” Noelle managed to get out.

“Well. Thank you anyway. And here. These are for you.” He put something down on her desk and beat a hasty retreat.

“Is that _chocolate_ ?” Jenny popped around the corner once he’d gone, eyes wide. “Oooh. He _likes_ you.”

“Shut up,” Noelle muttered, picking up the box of fine chocolate truffles, her cheeks blushing pink. “I’ll have to thank him. That was so sweet.”

“Well you’ll get your chance at the Christmas party tonight,” Jenny said. Tipping her head to one side, she smiled. “If you share those chocolates, I’ll help you do your hair and makeup.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why did I let Jenny talk me into this again?” Noelle muttered under her breath, staring around the room in a panic. While Jenny had indeed helped her get ready - and Noelle thought she looked pretty damn good - the other girl had almost immediately abandoned her and headed across the room to try and hit on Mack, who she had a huge crush on. Everyone else seemed to be standing around looking badass and Noelle felt very small and ordinary.

“I don’t belong here. I’m an office worker, not a freaking field agent,” she muttered under her breath.

“Nonsense, _Agent_ Fairchild,” a brisk voice said behind her, and Noelle failed to suppress a small shriek as she jumped straight up in the air.

Melinda May smirked at her. “Trust me, this place would stop running if it wasn’t for you _office workers_ keeping us in the equipment we need. I did two years in Admin, remember. It might be unglamorous, but you’ll never hear me say it’s not absolutely necessary.” She offered Noelle a cup, and, startled, Noelle took it. “So enjoy the party. You’ve got just as much right to be here as anyone else.”

“Thank you, Agent May,” Noelle said, quite startled, but also quite confident that May meant every word she said. Taking a sip from the cup May had given her, she almost choked. “Wow. That’s, that’s strong.”

“Well, it’s not really a party if someone hasn’t spiked the punch.” May’s lips quirked up at the edges before she turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

There was nowhere to put the cup down, so Noelle took another sip. Then a few more, and before long she began to feel a bit more relaxed. Like she almost fitted in.

Agent Hunter strode by then, paused, and suddenly asked her to dance. Startled, Noelle looked over her shoulder to see who he was talking to.

“Me?” She blinked at him, amazed, on realising she was the only possible candidate.

“Yes, you.” Hunter grinned at her. “Finish your drink and come show me your moves.”

 _What the hell._ Everyone else was dancing, why shouldn’t she? And despite Hunter’s laughingly flirty manner, Noelle was quite sure she was safe with him. Since Agent Morse was standing laughing with Dr. Simmons not far away. “Sure. Why not?” She slugged down the last of the punch, coughed slightly, and accepted Hunter’s offered hand with a smile.

About five minutes later she stumbled from the dance floor, laughing and slightly dizzy. Hunter’s dancing style could probably best be described as energetic, and all the whirling around combined with the alcohol had her feeling more than a little light-headed. She stumbled straight into Fitz, who was standing watching with his arms folded and a slightly grim look on his face.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he grumbled, hands catching her arms to steady her as she bumped him.

“You should have fun too,” Noelle laughed, inhibitions gone with the alcohol. “Oh - and I wanted to say - thank you so much for the chocolates.”

That made a small smile come to his face. “Did you enjoy them?”

“They were _delicious_ ,” she sighed.

Fitz’s gaze fixed on her lips as she licked them, remembering how good the truffles had tasted when she and Jenny had shared them, and suddenly Noelle decided she was done waiting for him to make a move.

 _Now or never,_ she told herself.

“Kiss the hell out of me,” she begged. “Please.”

Blue eyes widened before Fitz said incredulously “Are you drunk, lass?”

“Someone spiked the punch,” Noelle giggled.

“No they didn’t, I’ve been drinking it!”

“What?” Blinking, Noelle looked past him to see May, Simmons, Morse and Johnson all gesticulating and waving at her. She was pretty sure Bobbi was trying to tell her to just grab Fitz and kiss him. Well - it was that or strangle him, and somehow she didn’t think that was what Bobbi meant with those gestures.

“Maybe Agent May just spiked mine, then,” she said vaguely.

“Let me walk you back to your room,” Fitz offered.

She was just about to object - she was finally having fun! - when she realised that meant being alone with him. “Okay.”

Yes, Agent May was definitely giving her the thumbs-up - _and what the hell was Agent Johnson doing? Oh, that_ … as they walked past, Daisy’s hands moved and Noelle actually felt the wave of vibration that shoved her into Fitz’s arms and both of them into a dark corner of the room.

“Oh no,” she said not at all sincerely, “however did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz said, “but I’m not complaining.” He hesitated. “Did you mean it? When you asked me to kiss you?”

“Yes _please_ ,” Noelle begged shamelessly, and Fitz grinned.

“All right then. Guess I can do that.” And he proceeded to kiss the hell out of her even more thoroughly than Noelle had ever imagined even in the wildest of her dreams.


	25. Crossbones/Colossus for anon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _May 19 -_  
>  **  
>  _“Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong" Crossbones/Colossus for anon_

 

That had to have been quite some hit on his head. Because he could see his own reflection in the big dude bending over him. Like, all over him, there were tiny little reflections of Brock Rumlow, some grotesquely distorted, some showing that even despite the horrible, messy, bloody fight he’d just been involved in, his hair still looked good.

The reflections blurred as the big guy leaned closer. Brock squinted his eyes, feeling queasy.

“Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong. It’s not a mirror in your pocket, is it? My head hurts.”

It was hard to tell the expression that rippled across that smooth, metallic face, but then the guy - blessedly - seemed to get less bright, slowly shifting colour, smoothing back into a pinkish skin tone and leaving Brock staring up into the quite-young face of a very tall, very handsome man.

“Let’s get that head of yours looked at then, hey? Soulmate.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Brock mumbled as Colossus picked him up. His head spun and he very gracefully fainted against his brand new soulmate’s shoulder.

  
_This is only a little one because I wasn’t able to discuss with the anon what sort of scenario they wanted! PLEASE, PLEASE don’t send me birthday requests on anon. I need to be able to tag you - to make sure that you got your gift - and for filing purposes too!_


	26. Bucky/Beth for marvelfanuniverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 20 -** "Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you tastes like." Bucky/Beth for marvelfanuniverse
> 
> _(AU in which Tony hired Beth to manage the Avengers’ kitchen, stocking it with food, making sure there’s always coffee etc. She’s completely trusted and quite close friends with them all)_

Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of the slim, pretty blonde who always seemed to be in the kitchen area. She seemed to know far too much about his colleagues for his piece of mind, had the way they took their tea or coffee memorised, would produce fresh baked goods at the drop of a hat, and was on a friendly first-name basis with all of them. Even Wanda, and _everyone_ was a bit scared of Wanda. Even him.

“Aaah,” Wanda took a deep draught of the drink Beth had just handed her. “Thank you, Beth. That was just what I needed.” She gave Beth a kiss on the cheek in thanks.

“You’re welcome. Now go get some rest, that looked like a tough training session.” Beth smiled at Wanda. “I’m going to make some brownies this afternoon, you can have some later on.”

“Delicious!” Wanda headed out with a cheerful smile at Bucky, who was still lurking warily in the doorway.

“Oh, hi,” Beth noticed him then, gave him a nervous smile. “What can I get for you, uh… Mr. Barnes?”

He hesitated before taking a few steps forwards. “You’d better call me Bucky. Seems like you’re pretty close with all the others here.”

“Oh, well,” Beth gave him a sunny smile, “I’ve been doing my best to mother them all for a few months now!”

That made Bucky smile, and he pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar, picked an orange from the bowl of fresh fruit in front of him. “I bet they’re worse than a bunch of kindergartners.”

“They have their moments,” Beth agreed with a quiet chuckle, watching as he deftly peeled the orange. “Want some coffee to go with that? Tea?”

“Tea would be nice,” Bucky admitted. “Black, with lemon.”

“Very English,” Beth noted, reaching for a cup.

Bucky shrugged, as always a little uncomfortable when discussing his past. “I’m not sure when I picked up a taste for it like that.” He watched as she moved around the kitchen, graceful and neat, placing the cup in front of him just a few moments later. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Beth gave him a smile.

“Will you sit and have one too?” Bucky asked on impulse as she walked back to the refrigerator to put the lemon slices away. Beth looked over her shoulder, a startled glance. “Please. I - get a little edgy around people I don’t know well, and since you seem to be very much a fixture here, I need to get to know you.” He gestured at the vacant stool beside him.

Beth laughed softly, poured herself some tea and took the seat, her elbow almost touching Bucky’s. “Of course, I know all about you, but I’m a complete stranger! Well. Beth Jackson, former Kansas farm girl, was working as a starving waitress in New York when I got caught up in the Chitauri invasion and Steve saved my life.”

He listened intently as she talked, giving him a few details about her life and how she’d ended up working for Stark and then transferred along with the Avengers.

“Since most of them seem to lack the sense to pour water out of a boot,” she finished with a sidelong grin at him, “and _all_ of their culinary skills leave quite a lot to be desired.”

“You don’t cook meals too, do you?” Bucky asked, a little startled.

“Not usually, but I do arrange for them to be made and delivered, from the main kitchens. While this building is Avengers-only, there are quite a lot of other people who work on site.” Finishing her tea and getting up, Beth smiled at him. “Which reminds me, I need to organise tonight’s dinner.”

He thought of her that evening as he made his selection from the array of delicious dishes on the table. When he found that there was always a container of fresh lemon slices in the fridge when he went to make his tea.

It took a month for him to screw up the courage to ask her for a date. Bucky tried to tell himself it was because he just never saw her alone, there was always someone else around, and he didn’t want Beth to feel under pressure to say yes.

Her pretty blue eyes went very wide when he shyly asked her if she’d like to have dinner with him sometime. “Not here. Somewhere else, I mean. Like, on a date.” _Ugh, smooth, Barnes,_ he castigated himself. It had been too long since he’d flirted with a girl he liked and he was way, way out of practice.

“You know. Only if you want to,” he blabbered on. “And, you know, it’s fine to say no, not a problem, I won’t take offence, only you’re so lovely, not just pretty but a really lovely person…”

Beth’s mouth was open with surprise by now, her pretty pink lips he’d had all sorts of dreams about in the last month, looking plump and soft and oh so tempting. And then she began to smile, walking around the counter to him and taking his hands - both of them - in hers.

“I’d _love_ to go on a date with you, Bucky.”

“You… would?” he stuttered, feeling utterly clumsy and uncultured beside her quiet grace.

“Very much. I was thinking about asking _you_ , actually. Just getting up the courage,” she gave him the cutest little smile, and Bucky couldn’t help but lean forward towards her. To his enormous surprise, Beth tilted her face up and reached for his mouth with her own.

Lips met and clung; Beth pulled one of her hands from his and hooked it around his neck, holding on so he couldn’t pull away, deepening the kiss. Bucky was breathing very hard when she finally let him go.

Beth gave him a saucy smirk. “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you tastes like,” she said, her tone sultry. “But you’d better take me out on that date first. Tonight, was it?”


	27. Bucky/Jane, for iamartemisday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _May 20_  
>  **  
>  _  
>  \- “Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth.” Bucky/Jane, for iamartemisday  
>  _

It was all Darcy’s fault. Jane would maintain that steadfastly. If Darcy hadn’t kept drawing attention to them, she’d never have even noticed Bucky’s thighs.

Probably. They were pretty damn noticeable, after all… catching her eyes straying to his legs again, she resolutely turned her head and stared ahead of her.

Until she realised that she could watch him covertly in the reflection from the window…

Definitely Darcy’s fault.

“Oh look, it’s Broody McMurder Thighs,” Darcy had sighed about a week earlier, nudging Jane with a pointy elbow.

“Hmm?” Jane didn’t even look up from the machine she was kneeling beside.

“God, how can you  _ not  _ be distracted by  _ that _ ? I mean just look at the  _ thighs _ .”

“Are you objectifying some poor man again?” Jane sighed and looked up finally, only to see the thighs in question braced solidly as the man himself stood with his back to her. “Holy crap on a cracker!” Her jaw dropped. She had never in her  _ life  _ seen thighs like that.

And she hadn’t been able to stop staring at those goddamn thighs since. Especially when he walked. Standing still was bad enough, but the sight of Bucky Barnes walking, especially from the back - Jane had to admit to herself that she had a serious problem when she found herself going places she really wouldn’t normally, just in order to watch him.

Like the bar area in the Avengers facility, this evening. Sitting on her own, nursing a beer, wondering what the hell she was doing here as Darcy laughed across the room with Clint, daring him to do increasingly more outlandish trick shots at the darts board.

Momentarily distracted by the whoops and hollers across the room as Clint nailed a bullseye standing on his hands throwing with his foot - what the almighty  _ hell  _ \- Jane was jerked back to herself as someone dropped down to sit in the other chair at her table.

“Hi,” Bucky said.

“Urgh,” Jane responded incoherently, staring at him in shock. Willing herself not to look down, because he was wearing very tight black jeans tonight… her eyes drifted downwards almost unconsciously.

_ Oh God, those thighs… _

“I was just wond’rin,” Bucky said, “if you were ever gonna stop undressin’ me with your eyes, and start usin’ your teeth.”

Jane choked on her own spit. Badly enough that Bucky got out of his chair and reached to pat her firmly on the back, which meant that his thighs were  _ right in front of her face. _

“Gah,” she managed finally, “I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, it’s rude…”

“It’s flatterin’,” Bucky disagreed, “from a smart, stunning dame like you. I’m sorry if I came over a bit strong, but Darcy said you tend to be oblivious to guys hittin’ on you and I should be direct…”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Jane muttered under her breath, glancing across the bar to where Darcy had strategically hidden behind Sam and Steve’s broad backs.

“Don’t blame her, it’s my fault,” Bucky said sheepishly. “I’ve seen you lookin’ at me and I asked Darcy if I might have a chance with you, but clearly I really have no idea about how to flirt with a girl in this century.”

Realising that he was just about as embarrassed as she was, Jane gave him a shy smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Your suggestion certainly has its merits. Though I’m not sure my teeth would be strong enough…” against her will, her eyes went down to his thighs again, and the tight black denim stretching sinfully over the thick muscles.

“Well,” Bucky leaned forward, reached out to take her hand. “I guess you could use your hands, if you think your teeth ain’t up to the job. I’m not bothered either way.”

Looking up at him, she saw the laughing glint in his blue eyes and smiled. “I’d be willing to experiment.”

“But of course. You’re a scientist.” Leaning closer, so that his forehead almost touched hers, he said confidentially “I’m more than willing to be your test subject, ma’am.”

She could think of about a thousand different things she’d like to test out with Bucky Barnes as a willing partner. 

Which was how they came to be caught stark naked in the lab a few days later with Bucky tied to the biggest of her machines.

But that’s a whole ‘nother story…

… which Jane would steadfastly maintain was  _ also  _ Darcy’s fault.


	28. QuakePool for wabbitwanderer95

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 22 -** _"Is that all your mouth is good for?" QuakePool, for wabbitwanderer95_

“How many of these disgusting experimental labs did these  _ animals  _ have set up?” Daisy half-growled it, blowing another door off its hinges and striding into the room, hands up, preparing to quake any resistance to kingdom come. She’d already seen too much in this particular facility to be feeling any kind of mercy for the scientists who’d willingly worked here. Jemma was still throwing up outside in the parking lot, Fitz staying with her to comfort her.

Daisy was extremely surprised to see that all the mad scientists - and they had to have been mad, or at least bereft of anything resembling a conscience - in this particular lab were already in various stages of dismemberment around the room. A tall figure in red and black, wielding a long, curved blade in either hand, was just decapitating the last of them.

“At last, the cavalry! Took you long enough to fucking arrive. Wait,” Deadpool paused, gave her a stare. “You’re not The Cavalry.”

“No, but she is  _ with  _ me,” May poked her head into the room behind Daisy, glanced around with her eyebrows raised. “Been having fun making a mess, Wade?”

“Always!” he saluted her with a dripping katana.

Daisy was still gaping. She couldn’t help herself. She stared from the perfectly unconcerned May, back the the blood-spattered, blade-wielding -  _ whatever  _ he was - who was now checking around the room for any survivors. 

“You’ll catch flies,” Deadpool said cheerfully, approaching her, looking her up and down appreciatively. “I mean, I know I’m hot and all, but is gaping at me all your mouth is good for?”

“Wade!” May chided.

“I meant, does she  _ talk _ !” he said in a thoroughly injured tone. “Although you’re utterly gorgeous and I’m up for any other oral activities if you are. Mutual or one-sided,” he added to Daisy, who couldn’t help but start to laugh, charmed despite the circumstances.

“Maybe when I know you a bit better,” she said with a grin. 

“Woohoo!” Wade actually did a little jig on the spot, blood drops flying off his katanas.

“You’ll regret encouraging him,” May said to Daisy.

She shrugged. “Well. Maybe I’ll at least get a laugh out of it!”

“Oh, I promise you’ll get a  _ lot  _ more than just a laugh,” Wade said, twirling his katanas dextrously before sheathing them. “My word on it.”


	29. Remy/Daisy, for Lady Winterlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 23**   
>  \-    
>  __  
>  “Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” Daisy/Remy, for ladywinterlight   
> 

“And this is Mr LeBeau,” Coulson indicated the tall man who’d entered the room with him. “He’s going to be consulting with us on the training of Inhumans for the Secret Warriors team.”

Daisy, at the back of the room with her arms folded, ground her teeth. Elena, standing beside her, gave her a startled look. “Didn’t you know Coulson was bringing in a consultant?”

“Not until last night. He’s right, though. We do need someone experienced with different kinds of power, I just - I was surprised that he pulled this guy’s name out so quickly. When I asked him about it, he admitted that he’d considered asking LeBeau to lead the Secret Warriors.”

“He did not think you were ready,” Elena realised, pursed her lips in a silent whistle. “Ehhhh. I see why you might resent him.”

“Plus he's too good-looking. Bet he thinks way too much of himself,” Daisy muttered sulkily, watching as LeBeau kissed Jemma’s hand, making her blush and giggle. “I don't even know what he can do.”

“He could do quite a lot of things to me, I would not mind,” Elena snickered.

“Oh God, you too?” Daisy said disgustedly as Elena abandoned her to go and be introduced.

Determined not to be charmed - even May was grinning foolishly! - Daisy folded her arms tightly across her chest and pasted on a tight, false little smile as Coulson said;

“And this is Daisy Johnson, the team leader. Daisy, Remy LeBeau.”

He gave her a smile and offered his hand to shake with a challenging look, obviously daring her to be rude and refuse to shake in front of Coulson.

_ Challenge accepted. _

“So apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” she snapped, in the most abrasive tone she could manage.

“Daisy!” Phil said, shocked at her rudeness, but Remy held up a hand to hush him, his eyes fixed on Daisy.

She was just beginning to squirm a little uncomfortably under his hell-cored gaze, wondering just what his power actually was, and wishing she'd swallowed her resentment far enough to ask Coulson, when he spoke again.

“Whatever I have done before, it seems I shall now devote my life to making you happy.”

“What?” Astonished, she stared at him, unfolding her arms without thinking. “ _ What _ did you say? Coulson, did you put him up to this?”

“To what?” Phil said blankly as Remy began to unbutton his shirt.

“Even if he had, how could he have anticipated what you would say?” Remy inquired, pulling his shirt open to reveal her words scribbled across the most perfectly defined abs she'd ever seen.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Daisy said, starting to feel a bit ashamed of herself as the others crowded in around to look at Remy’s bared chest, Elena snickering and nudging her.

“Oh, I am not so concerned,  _ cherie,” _ Remy's smirk was pure sin. “At least I know you think I'm sexy!”


	30. Clint/Darcy for cc74

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 23** \- Clint/Darcy with the prompt “You and I would have really attractive children." for cc74 

_ What am I DOING here omigod that is PEPPER POTTS over there talking to CAPTAIN AMERICA WHAT AM I DOING HERE!!! _

Feeling the panic attack coming on, Darcy bolted for the bar she’d spotted as soon as she entered the room. She pointed blindly at the rack of bottles at the back of the bar. The bartender lifted one down, looked at her with a raised brow, and when she nodded, poured some into a glass.

“Leave the bottle,” Darcy said, grabbing up the glass and taking a healthy swig. A shrug was her only answer before the bottle was set down again.

By her third shot - double shot, maybe, she wasn’t exactly measuring them - the cold knot of panicky terror in Darcy’s stomach had begun to unwind and she was feeling a lot warmer. She finally eased her butt onto the bar stool nearest to her, taking the first deep breath she’d had in half an hour.

“You okay?” a low, steady voice said beside her, and she glanced sideways to meet blue-green eyes in the kind of face that was attractive even without being quite symmetrical.

“Bit better now,” she confessed. “I feel like kind of a fraud in a room with all these super-powered and ridiculously successful people.”

Nice Eyes smiled back at her, raised his beer bottle to tap it lightly against her recently refilled glass. “I’ll drink to that. Although not what you’re having. Is that an  _ insect  _ in the bottom of that bottle?”

Startled, Darcy picked the bottle up, examining it in the light. “A beetle of some sort, I think. Huh. It tastes pretty good, actually. Well, they put worms in tequila...”

Nice Eyes burst out laughing, and she found herself returning his smile. He was really cute actually, Darcy decided, with short sandy-blond hair and a charmingly lived-in face. She slid a look downwards, appreciating the way his shoulders were filling out the denim jacket he was wearing.

“I’m Darcy,” she introduced herself.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying “Clint,” and offering a tanned hand for her to shake. “So, are you gonna keep drinking your beetle juice or can I get you something else?”

“Hah!” she pointed at him. “You said Beetlejuice!”

His eyes gleamed with laughter. “Do you think we’d be in trouble if I said it twice more? Or if you did, because, you know, you said it now too?”

She clapped a hand over his mouth, felt his mouth twitch against her fingers. “Don’t! Even a room full of Avengers might not be enough to take care of HIM.” Darcy waited until Clint nodded before dropping her hand, collecting her glass and taking another hefty slug.

“You might want to slow down a little there, honey,” Clint said gently.

“Why?” She turned back to look at him, tilted her head slightly, examining his face more closely. “You know,” it occurred to her, “you and I would have really attractive children.”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” deftly, he took the glass from her fingers. “While you’re undoubtedly correct, we could get to know each other a little better first? Why don’t you come and dance with me? Since it seems you’re already loosened up.”

“You mean the vertical kind, don’t you?” Darcy gave him a disappointed pout.

“We can think about the horizontal kind when you’re sober, huh?”

“ _ I _ will think about the horizontal kind right now, thanks very much,” she gave him a salacious look up and down as he helped her to her feet. “Ooh,” as her hand, groping for support, settled on his bicep. “Hel- _ lo _ .”

“Hello to you too,” she had the distinct suspicion that he was laughing at her, but she couldn’t quite figure out why. 

It wasn’t until the following morning, when she woke up in his bed - still fully dressed, with Clint on the couch in the lounge - and saw the collection of bows and quivers hanging on the wall that she realised just where she’d seen his face before.

“Oh dear Thor no,” she buried her face desperately in the pillows and wished for the ground to swallow her up. “I hit on an  _ Avenger _ .”

Darcy had a very, very blurry recollection of Clint actually being quite receptive to her advances, though. Of slow-dancing with him until she decided she wanted another drink, which he’d intercepted and replaced with soda water. Of a toe-curlingly hot kiss in a dark corner of the bar. Surely she’d just dreamed that bit… Face scarlet, she scrambled out of the bed and hunted for her shoes, attempted to tiptoe out with them in hand. The walk of shame would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to face him…

She was almost to the apartment’s front door when a voice behind her said “Hey.”

Unwillingly, Darcy turned around - and lost her heart to the man sitting on the couch with a tattered purple blanket all that was protecting his modesty, his sandy hair sticking out all over the place.

Clint smiled tentatively at her. “You weren’t sneaking off before we settled on how many of those really attractive children we’re going to have, were you?”


	31. Remy/Darcy for awww-brain-no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 24**  
>  _\- “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” Remy/Darcy for aww-brain-no_

**May 24** _\- “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” Remy/Darcy for aww-brain-no_

“You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.”

“Not cute,” Darcy grumped, but she didn’t object when Remy scooped her easily into his arms. “Not tired, either,” she muttered, burying her face in his thick hair, breathing in the delicious scent of it, bitter oranges and cinnamon.

“Is that so, _ma chère_?” his voice was rich with amusement as he strode easily onwards, showing no signs of effort at carrying her not inconsiderable self. “It must have been someone else who fell asleep on my shoulder in the middle of dinner, then.”

“Did not,” she said mulishly.

“They were most adorable little snores, though, _petite_.”

“I do _not_ snore!” Indignant, she lifted her head to give him a glare. He gave her an eloquently arched eyebrow in return.

“If you say so.”

Darcy made a grumpy noise and poked at his shoulder, but really, if she objected too strongly he might put her back on her feet and make her walk, and she _was_ rather tired. It had been a long day. Resting her head back against his shoulder, she closed her eyes, breathing in his delicious Remy-scent…

… and woke up as he laid her gently down on their bed.

“Hush, _petite_. Go back to sleep.” He reached to take her shoes off. “We’re home.”

“You know, I don’t feel so sleepy now,” Darcy said with a grin, reaching up to grab at him. “I still gotta pay you back for calling me ‘cute’ anyway.”

Chuckling, Remy let her pull him down atop her. “You are cute! You are also beautiful,” he began to kiss her, slow gentle kisses interspersed with words, “glorious, sexy, enchanting, magnificent…”

“Better. I’ll consider forgiving you,” Darcy said magnanimously as he worked his way down, deftly easing the buttons of her blouse open as he went.

“Remy must work harder, then…”

She smiled, letting her eyes drift closed as his hot mouth slid lower. No danger of falling asleep right now, though, she wasn’t feeling in the _least_ bit tired any more…


	32. Bucky/Darcy for techbeck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 25 -** _Bucky/Darcy "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong." for techbeck_
> 
> _(and thank you to @celiaequus’ mother for putting Lurky Barnes in my head)_

“I’m gonna hit on him,” Darcy said, putting her empty shot glass down on the bar.

“Who?” Jane looked up in alarm.

“Lurky.”

“How many of those have you had?” Jane eyed the shot glass.

“Enough, finally.”

“Just don’t forget that his name’s not actually Lurky McMurderThighs!” Jane called cheerfully after her as Darcy set off across the bar in a determinedly straight line, which, if she could only have seen it, was decidedly wavery.

She’d been trying to pluck up the courage to ask him out for weeks now. He flirted, gave her bedroom eyes across the room even, but didn’t seem predisposed to make an actual move. And asking out an Avenger was really rather out of Darcy’s life experience. Very different to hitting on a fellow intern or college student.

So, after a lot of Dutch courage she’d found in a tequila bottle, she’d decided that tonight was the night she was going to hit on him. He’d been giving her those bedroom eyes across the room again.

_What shall I say?_ she mused as she strode (wove) determinedly in his direction. _Some cheesy pickup line, he’ll laugh at least… maybe ‘Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?’_

She tried it out in her head. _Could work. Or there’s always the old standby ‘Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants’._

_Actually, he’s wearing really nice pants tonight._ Tight black denim jeans which were setting those fabulous murder thighs off nicely. He tipped his head as she approached, his far-too-swishy hair falling gracefully around his ridiculously good-looking face.

Totally thrown by his attractiveness - even regular exposure didn’t seem to alter how he affected her - Darcy’s tongue tangled up on her and delivered a muddled mess.

“Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great!”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up.

“Wait. I said that wrong. Oh God.” She’d just made an utter idiot of herself in front of him. _Again_.

“You do look great, doll,” he said with a low chuckle. “I ain’t got a mirror, though. ‘Cept this,” he gestured with his shining arm.

“It’s so pretty,” Darcy reached out to touch the gleaming, shimmering plates lightly. “Like you. Everything about you is so pretty.”

“I think maybe you’ve had a few drops too many, doll,” Bucky slipped his other arm around her waist gently.

“Can’t talk to you otherwise,” Darcy confessed, tongue thoroughly loosened by the alcohol. “You’re very inti - intiminat - intermin - _scary_.”

“Not to _you_ , doll. _You_ don’t ever hafta be scared of me.” Bucky laughed at the thought. “Or intimidated, if that’s what you were tryin’ ta say.” Gently, he reached up, smoothed her hair back from her face. “Why don’t we go an’ get some coffee into you, huh?”

“Is that a date, Lur- Bucky?” she asked hopefully, just covering the slip on his name in time. She hoped.

For a moment, he looked a little surprised, and then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a date, Darcy.”


	33. Darcy/Bucky/Rumlow for shelflife75

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 28 _-_**  
>  _"What makes you think I'd fuck you again?" Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow/Bucky Barnes for shelflife75_
> 
> _My Civil War fixit[Crossbones Reborn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6789550) is canon for this ficlet. Which means Rumlow is alive, well and working for Fury. He was undercover in Hydra, and didn’t know Bucky then. The first time he saw the Soldier was when Pierce was ordering him re-brainwashed. _
> 
> _Rumlow and Darcy had a THING pre-the fall of SHIELD. Like everyone else, she thinks he’s now a dead traitor. She and Bucky have been dancing around each other with flirtations and occasional booty calls but haven’t quite taken the next step to it being an actual ‘relationship’ when Fury sends Rumlow to work with the Avengers on a case._

“Barnes,” Rumlow held a hand out to shake.

“You’re Rumlow? I understand we met before.”

“Yes,” Rumlow’s eyes were briefly shadowed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, then. What I saw them do to you has haunted me ever since.”

Bucky’s smile was small but genuine. “That’s okay. I understand you couldn’t blow your cover. If you had I’d probably have wound up killing you anyway. Took me at least a year out of their control to remember I wasn’t supposed to just kill anyone who even got in my way.” His hand was still curled around Brock’s, holding it firmly.

Brock returned the smile. “You look good, anyway. Better than you did then. You looked fit enough but like you had not a scrap of body fat. Not real healthy.”

“I’m healthy now. _Entirely_ healthy.” Bucky couldn’t quite help himself. The other man was seriously, _seriously_ hot, and it had been months since he’d had sex. Darcy was off wandering around the world with Jane and he had no idea when she’d be back.

“That’s good to hear.” Rumlow’s eyes lidded, and he licked his lips.

They were in bed together within the hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last thing Darcy had expected to see in Bucky’s bed when she dropped by unexpectedly on her arrival back at the facility was her ex-boyfriend.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” Startled, she dropped her purse on the floor, gaped at him. “You’re dead! You _should_ be dead…” she realised something then, swooped for her purse and the Taser it contained.

“Easy, there,” Bucky’s hand clamped down on hers, not hurting her but inexorably strong, preventing her from grabbing the weapon.

“He’s a traitor!” she shouted, “Bucky, he’s _Hydra_!”

Rumlow was by now sitting on the edge of the bed, completely unconcerned about his spectacular nakedness, smirking slightly at her fury.

“Bzzzt,” he said. “Incorrect.”

“But… but…”

“Undercover double agent for SHIELD, actually, babe.”

“You two know each other?” Bucky said, bemused.

“Oh, in the biblical sense, Buck. Remember how I told you about the girl I regretted when I had to ‘kill off’ my old persona? Yeah. Darcy.”

“Huh,” Bucky started to grin. “Remember how I told you about the girl I’d been seeing, who when I told her I was bisexual, told me that her fantasy was a man we could both share?”

He was naked too, Darcy realised as he helped her straighten up from her awkward crouch. Both naked, and they’d clearly been having a darn good time, considering the seriously rumpled bed. And Rumlow’s hair, which never looked that messy.

“You two… have been…” she said slowly, her brain trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. Which was kinda difficult, because she was getting thoroughly sidetracked by the visual feast of spectacular masculinity in front of her, only intensifying as Rumlow stood up and moved over to stand by Bucky.

“Come on, _you_ jumped his bones the first chance you got, Darce, you’re seriously blaming _me_ for doing the same thing?”

“Doll - are you mad with me? You told me before you left that we weren’t a ‘thing’, as you put it, and that if I met someone else I should feel free…” Bucky trailed off.

Rumlow nudged him. “You translated the girl-speak wrong, Bucky. She wanted you to wait.”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Bucky mumbled sheepishly.

“It’s not his fault, Darce. I mean, _you_ couldn’t resist me. He never had a chance. I’m not averse to sharing, though.”

“You… you asshole,” she sputtered, finally finding her voice. “What makes you think that I’d fuck you again? _Either_ of you?”

“Oh, I don’t know… the fact that your eyes haven’t strayed from my cock except to look at his, from the moment you walked in the room?” Rumlow drawled. “I don’t think you’ve even blinked.”

Hot colour washed Darcy’s skin from her hairline all the way down her chest, because he was quite correct. Either man was well worth staring at; both of them together - well, she very much doubted that she’d ever get a better view.

“Darcy,” Bucky’s hand touched her cheek lightly. “I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, about me an’ Brock.”

“It’s okay,” finally she managed to drag her eyes up to his face, seeing his distressed expression. “Really, Bucky, it’s okay. I meant it when I said we weren’t a Thing - or I thought I did at the time.”

“I missed you so much,” he confessed.

“Me too,” something about the honesty in his blue eyes softened her, and she let him pull her in for a hug. Which, since he was naked, put her hands in contact with a lot of delicious male muscle, sidetracking her brain quite thoroughly again.

“He ain’t the only one who missed you, Darce,” Rumlow said it quietly, keeping his distance but watching both of them with yearning, envious eyes. “I’m so sorry I had to disappear like that, but it was critical that everyone believed I was dead.”

Still being held tightly by Bucky, who seemed very disinclined to let her go, Darcy turned her head to look at Brock. “Was I just a part of your mission?” she asked painfully.

His smile was tight. “Quite the opposite. I nearly blew my cover because of you more than once. Kept telling myself I should leave. In the end all I could make myself do was send you away before the shit went down.”

She hesitated only a moment longer before freeing an arm and reaching out to him. “Don’t you dare ever lie to me again.”

“No, ma’am,” he promised, moving gratefully into the embrace.

 _From single to TWO hot naked boyfriends in the span of five minutes, how the hell did I manage that?_ Darcy wondered before mentally shrugging - she had no space to physically shrug because of all the man-muscle cuddling her firmly. _Ah well. At least it looks as though the dry spell is about to be well and truly over..._

 


	34. Darcy/Matt Murdock, for thatpunkmaximoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
> “Are you going to eye fuck me all night or do something about it?” Darcy/Matt Murdock  
>  thatpunkmaximoff won one of the third prizes in my [1111 Followers Giveaway on Tumblr](http://ozhawkauthor.tumblr.com/post/144900496357/ozhawkauthor-ok-so-im-a-huge-dork-and-while). This is the prize ficlet they asked for!  
>  
> 
>  

“Who’s the new guy?” Darcy caught at Pepper’s wrist as the taller woman passed, tilted her head towards the dark-haired man in a suit and Tony-style tinted shades who was standing talking to Sam and Steve.

“Matt Murdock. He’s a lawyer. Good man to have on our side, if you know what I mean,” Pepper tipped her a wink and carried on walking.

 _Well, duh that it’s a good idea to have a lawyer on our side,_ Darcy thought. This must be one of that army of high-priced lawyers who worked for Stark Industries and did their level best to untangle the expensive messes that Tony made - and the Avengers, of course.

Not that the guy looked like a high-priced lawyer, despite the douchey blue-sunglasses-indoors thing. Darcy considered him, lips pursed in thought. He was wearing a decent enough suit, or it looked decent enough from a distance, but Darcy reckoned it was off-the-rack and at least two years old. And his shoes, his shoes were comfortably worn-in, which in her experience wasn’t a look that high-priced lawyers usually went for.

 _A conundrum_ , she thought. _Interesting…_

As though he sensed her scrutiny, Murdock suddenly turned his head slightly and stared straight at her. Darcy quickly looked away - but found herself looking back again a moment later to find him still staring at her.

 _He’s pretty cute_ , she thought, a little unwillingly. He had an air about him, a _stillness_ , that she felt instinctively attracted to; it was something that she saw very little of working with the Avengers, as high-energy as they all were. Matt Murdock didn’t waste a single motion; he didn’t gesture with his hands when he spoke, didn’t shuffle his feet or shift his balance. _Controlled_ , Darcy thought, and failed to suppress a quiver of sexual awareness at the thought.

He was still watching her when she gained the courage to look at him again. Neither Sam nor Steve seemed to notice his inattention, though, both listening to what he was saying and nodding in agreement, carrying on the conversation without apparently concerning themselves with what, or rather _who_ , Murdock was staring at.

She could have walked away, of course. Lost herself in the crowd. His gaze wasn’t making her feel uncomfortable, though. Or, not in the _awkward_ sense - it was making her feel uncomfortable in that she was starting to get flushed, though. Was beginning to feel a telltale heat at the apex of her thighs.

Murdock was still staring at her five minutes later when Sam and Steve shook his hand and walked away, leaving him standing temporarily alone.

 _Fuck it,_ Darcy decided. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._ She moved towards him with quick steps, stopping in front of him with one hand on a cocked hip, giving him a sassy smile. He tilted his head down towards her and smiled a little quizzically in return.

“Hello,” he said in a soft, beautifully modulated voice.

“So, are you going to eye fuck me all night, or do something about it?” she demanded, but her tone came off a little more challenging than seductive, because she was feeling kinda nervous now she was right up close with him.

Murdock’s smile disappeared. “My apologies. I didn’t intend to make you feel uncomfortable, Miss…?”

“Lewis, Darcy Lewis. I work in PR here.”

“Ah, yes. Ms Potts mentioned your name as someone I should meet.” He held out his hand… distinctly to her right. Darcy looked at in in puzzlement until he said;

“And I do apologise if you thought I was staring at you. I’m blind.”

Her mouth fell open with horror. “Oh _no_. I’m so sorry. How embarrassing, I’ve just made myself look like the biggest idiot in the world.”

“Not at all,” Matt had a genuinely lovely smile, she realised. “You couldn’t know. I’m told I look quite sighted, when you’re not close enough to see whether my eyes track small movements.”

She took his hand at last, feeling about two inches high. Warm fingers tightened on her own.

“Plus,” Matt said confidingly, “I do have _other_ abilities. I was aware of you, though not the way you think.”

“What do you mean…” she put it together suddenly. Blind. Lawyer. “ _Daredevil_.”

He tilted his head in a gesture of acknowledgement. “While I wasn’t looking at you when you probably thought I was - I did pick up _something_ interesting about you.” Moving a little closer, he bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Thinking that I was staring at you got you thoroughly aroused.”

He could _smell_ her, Darcy realised, and wanted to sink through the floor in utter humiliation.

“Which,” Matt murmured softly in her ear, “I find very, very flattering.”

_Oh._

“And while I’ll never be able to _eye fuck_ you, as you so eloquently put it… I definitely wouldn’t be averse to the _other_ kind of fucking. Though maybe you’d permit me to take you out to dinner first?”

He was giving her a graceful way out - and in. Darcy seized on it gratefully. “That sounds good.”

“All of it?” Matt’s smile was positively sinful.

“Yeah.” She grinned back at him before realising he couldn’t see it. “Yeah… all of it.”


	35. Darcy/Bucky for mommawynni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **May 31 -** _"What... was that?" Darcy/Bucky for mommawynni_
> 
> _This got filthy pretty much INSTANTLY. I’m not sure what you were expecting but I suspect this might not have been it. Hope it hits the spot for you anyway (*snerk*)_

>

“What… was that?” Darcy gasped out, her voice a thin thread of sound.

“I’m pretty sure it’s my finger in your sweet little pussy, darlin,” Bucky released her nipple from his mouth with a _pop_ to answer the question.

“That’s not what I… _gaaahhhhh_!”

“Oh, _that_?”

“Bucky!”

“I didn’t mention that before, huh?”

She made a desperate little squealing sound, hips bucking upwards.

“Those Wakandan techs are a-freaking-mazing, doll. When I asked them to build a few new features into the new arm, they were quite happy to oblige.”

Bucky grinned as Darcy lost it entirely, screaming and sobbing as her body clenched around him.

“So I thought the ability to vibrate my fingertips might come in handy if I ever found a gal who’d let me lay this thing on her. What do you think, is it a good idea?”

Still breathing hard as he gently withdrew his fingers, Darcy opened one eye and glared at him. “You’re a _troll_ , Bucky Barnes.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a grin, lightly brushing a still-vibrating fingertip over her clit, making her twitch and moan again. “If ya don’t like it, all ya gotta do is say so…”

Her small hands both locked onto his wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. “Don’t you dare take that away.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a satisfied grin.


	36. Jemma/Daisy, for shineefan101amg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I would rather have a cup of tea than sex”, Jemma/Daisy, for shineefan101amg_
> 
> shineefan101amg was one of the winners in my 1111 Followers giveaway on Tumblr and this was her choice of prize!

“Come on,” Daisy nuzzled her girlfriend’s hair aside, pressed gentle kisses down her neck. Jemma batted lightly at her, never taking her eyes off the screen.

“Not now,” Jemma said absently.

“Jemma, this can wait until tomorrow,” Daisy wheedled hopefully.

“Just let me finish this simulation.” She tapped a few corrections into the keyboard.

“Jems, it’s got two _hours_ left to run! Come on, come to bed. I’ll show you some fun _simulations_ ,” Daisy nibbled lightly at Jemma’s ear.

“Daisy, if you want to be helpful, go and put the kettle on. Seriously. I would rather have a cup of tea than sex right now.”

Somewhat offended, Daisy sighed and headed over to the tiny kitchenette off the lab to put the kettle on. Returning a few minutes later with Jemma’s tea, she saw that Jemma had pushed her chair back from the desk and was leaning back in it, gently massaging her temples, her eyes closed.

“Here you go, babe,” Daisy set the cup on the desk.

“Thank you,” Jemma said with a sigh, dropping her hands and smiling wearily up at Daisy. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, darling.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy reached out to take Jemma’s hands in hers. “If you feel you can’t leave, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed.” With a little bit of a smirk, she slipped to her knees. “That said, it’s the middle of the night, and we’re the only people awake in this part of the base. If you can’t leave, then I’ll just have to bring the fun to you. You can have your cup of tea _and_ sex.”

“Oh?” Jemma smiled back at her as Daisy pushed her skirt up. “Like having my cake and eating it, you mean?”

“Yes, except it’s not going to be _you_ doing the eating.”

“Oh,” Jemma’s eyelids fluttered closed as Daisy began to kiss gently up the inside of her thigh. “Oh… I see. I think… I’d better not try to drink my tea just now, either. I might spill it.”

“Mm?” Daisy nibbled lightly at the very top of Jemma’s thigh, nosing her panties gently aside. “You can drink it when I’m finished.”

The cup of tea was entirely cold by the time Jemma felt able to pick it up and take a sip. Laughing, Daisy took the cup from her hand. “I’ll get you another one, babe. You stay there and keep on sciencing.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jemma shook her head and tried to return her attention to her computer screen. Everything just looked like a jumble of symbols at that moment, though. She looked down at her hands, flat on the desktop, and tried to still them.

“Jemma,” a deep voice said behind her, and she almost flew out of her chair with a shriek.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you!” Mack came around the desk, put a calming hand on her shoulder. “You all right? I was passing on my way to my room, saw the light on.”

“You just startled me,” Jemma said, thanking her lucky stars that he hadn’t been passing five minutes earlier. Now _that_ would have been embarrassing. She suddenly spotted her knickers, lying on the floor where Daisy had discarded them. _Oh my God._ Hastily, she put her foot over them, kicked them under her desk. “I’ll be off to bed myself shortly! Good night!”

Mack blinked at her, then shrugged. “All right. Don’t stay up too late.” He gave her a paternal pat on the shoulder before departing.

Daisy emerged from the kitchenette where she’d been hiding, giggling madly. “Oh my God, what if he’d come past five minutes earlier?”

“Just what I was thinking!” Jemma shook her head at Daisy severely, unable to keep from laughing, though. “You really have corrupted me with your bad girl shenanigans!”


	37. Darcy/Deadpool for holieshka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holieshka one one of the third prizes in my [Tumblr 1111 Followers Giveaway](http://ozhawkauthor.tumblr.com/post/144900496357/ozhawkauthor-ok-so-im-a-huge-dork-and-while), and asked for the following prompt!
> 
> _“You can stay but your clothes must go.” Darcy/Deadpool_

Darcy had seen all sorts of crazy things since taking up with Jane and getting involved in the crazy world of myths, legends and superheroes. So Deadpool climbing in through her bedroom window was something that she took quite in her stride, all things considered.

“Hi,” she said.

“Oh, hello!” Deadpool looked down at her, sprawled on her beanbag with a glass of wine in one hand and a bowl of popcorn tucked in the crook of her other arm. Looked at the TV, where Rachel and Finn were currently singing _Don’t Stop Believin’_ very loudly at each other. “Oooh! Glee! I _love_ Glee!” He plopped down to sit beside Darcy, reached over and grabbed a handful of her popcorn.

“Do you mind if I peel this up?” he gestured at his mask.

Darcy shrugged, took another sip of her wine. She’d seen Wade without his mask before. “Go for it.”

“Cool, thanks!”

“Do I want to ask why you’re climbing in my window in the middle of the night with a very furtive, _I’m-in-trouble-and-need-a-place-to-hide_ air?”

“Nope! Do I want to ask why you’re watching Glee with the volume up very loud in the middle of the night?” He crunched down on his popcorn and peered at her interrogatively.

“Thor’s here and he and Jane are noisy,” Darcy shrugged.

“Oooh, I bet that sounds _hot_ ,” Wade said enthusiastically.

“Sure, but since I’m having an extremely long dry spell I’m just finding it depressing.”

“Aha, I get it. Still, there’s always self-gratification! Toys! Or, you know, I’m here and available!”

Darcy stared at him. He gave her a perky smile.

“I’m really never sure if you’re being serious or not,” she said slowly.

“Oh, I’m always serious when it comes to the offer of sex,” Wade nodded at her. “You’re seriously hot, and in need of sexual gratification. Why wouldn’t I be happy to oblige?”

She slugged down the rest of her wine. Wade crunched some more popcorn and started singing along with the TV.

“Okay,” Darcy said finally, wondering if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. But then, after a whole bottle of wine, she really didn’t care all that much. “You can stay. But your clothes must go.”

She’d never seen a superhero get out of a skin-tight suit so fast. Mind you, she thought, she’d never seen a superhero getting out of a skin-tight suit at all. Until now. It was a pretty good view; Wade was _built_ , despite his scarred skin. Darcy just lay back on her beanbag, staring up at him admiringly, wondering if she should get undressed too. At least until Wade stooped to lift her up.

“I think you’ll be more comfortable on the bed while I’m making you scream my name,” he said chirpily.

“Probably,” Darcy agreed, still wondering if this was just the epically bad idea to end all bad ideas. At least until Wade began kissing and suckling down her neck while his fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse.

“Oh, God,” she said as his fingers closed on her nipple, plucking sharply at it through the satin of her bra.

“Which one?” Wade asked against her skin. “Because I’m not sure I can take you thinking about Thor or Loki while I’m in your bed.”

“No, I, _unnnn_.” Somehow he already had her pants unfastened, his hand sliding inside, curving down inside her panties, fingertip grazing over her clit. “Not… thinking,” Darcy panted out as Wade deftly stripped the rest of her clothes away.

“Good. That’s good. You carry on not thinking. Wow, you really are incredibly beautiful.”

She smiled, eyes closed, as scarred, roughened hands slid gently across her body, cupping her breasts, thumbing at her nipples - just before he sucked one of them into his mouth, drawing on it hard, making her arch up off the bed with a loud moan of pleasure.

Another song started on _Glee_ , making her jump; she fumbled blindly across the bed for the remote, hitting the OFF button. She didn’t want any distractions right now. Not considering the way Wade’s fingers were dancing teasingly around her clit, dipping inside her to gather slick and swirling it around lightly.

“Tease,” she mumbled, and he chuckled around her nipple before kissing across her chest to the other one.

“Not much fun if it’s all over in five minutes, is it?”

“Truuuuueeeee!” Wade applied a deft fingertip firmly to her clit just as he bit down lightly on her nipple, and the word tailed off in a shriek of pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell were you watching last night?” Jane grumbled when Darcy stumbled into the kitchen and made a bee-line for the coffee machine.

“Huh?”

“Well, we heard you watching _Glee_ , but then you switched over to some terrible porno. Seriously, _nobody_ makes that many sex noises, and it went on _for ever. So_ unrealistic.” Jane looked positively affronted.

Darcy choked on her coffee.


	38. Darcy/Claire Temple, for uruvielnumenesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I only like getting bossed around when I'm naked!" Darcy/Claire Temple_
> 
> Another prize fic for my Tumblr 1111 Followers giveaway, this one was requested by uruvielnumenesse!

“Over here!” Claire ordered as the paramedics rushed in another bed. This one contained a young woman bleeding badly from a head wound, her eyes glassy and a little unfocused. Amazingly, there seemed to be very few casualties from the latest attack on Avengers Tower; just lots of folks panicking and running away, a few nasty falls and broken bones. This was the first bleeder Claire had seen. She grabbed a sterile bandage, leaned over the young woman and pressed it to her forehead to slow the bleeding.

“Ouch!”

“Hold still. I need to see how bad the wound is.” Claire grabbed the woman’s hand, brought it up and held it on the pad. “Hold that for a moment. What’s your name?”

“Darcy Lewis.”

“That’s good. I’m gonna shine a light in your eyes, okay, Darcy?” Claire pulled her penlight from her pocket and clicked it on. Darcy’s pupils reacted to light, at least, and she protested again, taking her hand off the bandage pad and trying to bat the penlight away.

“I said hold still!”

“I only like getting bossed around when I’m naked!” Darcy yelled back, making pretty much the entire emergency room turn to look at her, and inducing quite a number of catcalls from other patients.

Claire couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re really pretty. I’d like _you_ to boss me around in bed,” Darcy said dreamily as Claire finally convinced her to lie back and be still, taking the pad off her head to find that the cut which had made such a mess was mercifully quite small. Three stitches, right on her hairline, Claire estimated.

“Well, maybe we could discuss that when you’re not concussed and bleeding all over my ER,” Claire said absently, reaching for fresh gloves and her suture kit.

“I’m gonna hold you to that… Claire.”

“Well, since you’re focussing well enough to read my name badge, I’m going to conclude that you haven’t done all that much damage to your head, but I’m still gonna send you for a CAT scan and X-rays anyway, just to be sure. Now, you really need to hold still, Darcy. I’m going to put on topical anaesthetic to numb the pain, but if you move around my stitches won’t be neat and you might scar this beautiful face.”

Darcy smiled and lay back as Claire set to work. “All right. Since you asked so nicely.”

Claire found herself smiling as she carefully stitched Darcy up. “There we go. I’m off shift now so I won’t be here when you get back from your scans, but the resident on call will check them over for you and write you up some care orders. Take care now and try not to get hit on the head again.”

Darcy didn’t even have time to say goodbye before Claire was gone.

A few days later Claire arrived at work to find a large bunch of flowers waiting on her desk. One of her co-workers saw her coming and laughed.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Claire!”

She flipped him the bird, but couldn’t help a small smile as she reached to pluck the card from the arrangement. It had been a long time since anyone sent her flowers.

 _Hi Claire,_ the carefully printed words inside read. _Hope I’m not coming off like a creepy stalker, but if you were still interested in having that discussion about you maybe giving me orders while naked, my concussion’s definitely all better now. Darcy Lewis._

There was a phone number beneath the scrawled signature.

Smiling, Claire tucked the card into her pocket. She’d make the call later, when she got off work...


	39. Fitz/Bucky/Darcy for sassinessisthewaytogo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“No, no, just keep your clothes on” Fitz/Darcy/Bucky_
> 
> _Darcy works for SHIELD in this AU and is Fitz’s assistant/lab manager/lover. They’ve been brought in to check over Bucky’s arm, which he DIDN’T lose at the end of Civil War._
> 
> A prize fic for sassinessisthewaytogo, who won one of the prizes in my 1111 Followers Tumblr giveaway and asked for this prompt!

“Mr Barnes? Or do you prefer Sergeant Barnes?” Fitz was nervous, Darcy could see that his hands were shaking just the slightest bit. She smiled at the former Winter Soldier encouragingly.

“Bucky,” he said at last, in a voice that was just a little raspy, as though he hadn’t used it much lately. His bright blue eyes flickered from her to Fitz and back again. “You can just call me Bucky.”

“Well, in that case, I’m Darcy and this is Fitz. _Doctor_ Fitz, but just call him Fitz. He’s the best engineer you’re ever going to meet, and yes, I include Tony Stark in that, since Fitz doesn’t have billions of dollars to just buy whatever parts he needs,” Darcy said proudly.

Bucky smiled at that. “I wouldn’t let Stark touch this thing,” he gestured with his arm. “Even if he wanted to get within a thousand miles of me, which he doesn’t.”

“Well, lucky me that I get first crack at you, then. At _it_. At it, I mean, your arm…” Fitz trailed off as he saw, from the corner of his eye, Darcy covering her mouth to suppress her laughter. _Damn it._ They really shouldn’t have been talking about how neither of them would kick Barnes out of bed for eating crackers right before coming in here. Now he had sex on the brain. “So,” he rushed out hastily, “let’s start with a _full_ examination.”

Bucky nodded, reached to the back of his neck and pulled his T-shirt off over his head in one smooth motion. Fitz kicked Darcy lightly in the ankle when she choked, eyes almost falling out of her head. And then _he_ nearly passed out, because Bucky unfastened his belt buckle and pants, started to push them down.

“No, no!” Fitz exclaimed. “Just keep your clothes on!”

“No, no, take them _off_ ,” Darcy said promptly, kicking Fitz back.

Hands stilling at his waist, Bucky looked from one to the other of them before starting to grin at their blushing cheeks. “Which is it?”

“Off,” Darcy said promptly.

“On!” Fitz glared at Darcy. “Bucky - please, you can keep your pants on. I just want to look at your _arm_.”

“That’s not what you said half an hour ago.”

“Darcy, you’re not helping!” Fitz cursed his pale Scottish skin, sure by now that he was scarlet to his hairline.

“He said he wouldn’t mind giving you an _all-over_ examination,” Darcy said to Bucky in a confiding tone. “I said I wouldn’t mind helping.”

“Well,” Bucky smiled back at her, “after Fitz has taken a look at the arm, maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did want to examine the rest of me. _Both_ of you.”

Fitz froze up completely, mouth hanging open. Bucky gave him bedroom eyes. They stared at each other until Darcy elbowed Fitz, handing him a screwdriver.

“Come on then, chop chop. Let’s get business taken care of so we can get to the pleasure part!”


	40. T'Challa/Bucky for fakesmilesandsecrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 3 -** _“Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. Yes is the answer.” T'Chucky for fakesmilesandsecrets_

It took T’Challa quite a long time to admit that he was hopelessly, stupidly, head over heels in love with his guest.

To himself, anyway. His bodyguards and his sister were well aware of it long before and had even taken to teasing him about it.

Bucky, he thought - he _hoped_ \- was blissfully oblivious to T’Challa’s feelings. He probably hadn’t missed the way that T’Challa’s eyes followed him whenever they were in the same room together. Well. He hadn’t missed it once Shuri and Nakia had loudly, laughingly pointed it out, anyway; had grinned a smirking little smile in T’Challa’s direction which had made T’Challa flee the room, even while castigating himself for doing so.

_I’m king of the sovereign nation of Wakanda; I don’t run away from anyone, especially not a too-handsome formerly brainwashed assassin with the most amazing blue eyes…_

Lost in a daydream of Bucky’s eyes, T’Challa startled when Bucky suddenly took the seat opposite him.

“What are you doing in here?” he said blankly.

“Nakia let me in. She seems to think that you have a question for me.”

“I… I don’t…” T’Challa floundered.

“Because I’ve got an answer for you.” Bucky stood up again and began to strip, slowly, deliberately, never taking his eyes from T’Challa’s.

“Unnnnhhhh,” was about the only noise T’Challa could make, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he stared. “Ummmm. Sex.”

Bucky smirked, completely naked now, leaning forward and placing his hands on the arms of T’Challa’s chair, caging him in. “Sex isn’t the answer, T’Challa. Sex is the _question_. _Yes_ is the answer.”


	41. Jemma/Rollins for sneakytortoise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 8** \- _“I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine” Jemma/Rollins for[@sneakytortoise](https://tmblr.co/mcy36ILc8PBeeI1raYuebFQ)_

Jack loved the way that Jemma always arched into his touch, like she couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of _him_ , rough, scarred, ten years her senior and a thousand times her inferior.

“So beautiful,” he murmured wonderingly, running his thick fingers into her hair, carding gently through its softness. Jemma’s wide hazel eyes fluttered open, glanced up at him, and she smiled.

“I love the way you see me, Jack.”

“Ain’t just me. Any man with eyes can see how lovely you are. I’ve had to break more than a few heads in STRIKE, dumb fools lustin’ after my girl.”

She poked him in the stomach. “Well, if you’d just let me tell people that I _am_ your girl, come out with me in public sometimes, you wouldn’t have to worry about it! Everyone would be too scared of you to even look at me sideways!”

Jack hung his head a bit sheepishly, as always unable to explain. He felt so certain that she’d feel ashamed of him, of their relationship; that her clever colleagues in the science division would look down on her, say ugly things about her crude taste in men. Not that he cared what they thought of _him_ , but he didn’t want her colleagues to think less of Jemma because she had particular needs only a man like him could satisfy…

Jemma moaned as his hand settled on the back of her neck, clamping down lightly. “Please,” she whimpered, arching up, baring her neck. “Jack…”

He knew what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to mark her where anyone could see. He swooped lower instead, began to suckle a hickey into the upper slope of her breast. Jemma writhed and moaned beneath him, her slim legs wrapping around his waist, wanting more, wanting his stubble rasping on her tender throat, his marks of possession on her where everyone could see. She knew better than to waste her breath asking, though; Jack would only shake his head.

“Agent Salinas asked me out today,” she gasped, suddenly thinking of another tactic.

Jack stilled before pulling off, rearing up off her. “What?” His eyes were stormy, hard mouth setting in a firm line.

“Agent Salinas. You know. He’s a quinjet pilot? Tall, looks a bit like a young Antonio Banderas…”

“I know him,” Jack’s voice dropped to a growl. “Typical flyboy, a peacock pretty boy.”

“He asked me to dinner. I had to fob him off with a bullshit excuse because you won’t let me tell people I’ve got a boyfriend.” Jemma arched a brow at him.

“ _Boyfriend_ sounds like we’re in high school,” Jack snorted with distaste.

“That I’ve got a _man_ , then. A man who satisfies my _every_ need - except he isn’t willing to publicly lay claim to me.”

“Is that what you think?” Jack saw red, suddenly. Goddamn Salinas, he wanted to put the pretty boy’s face through a wall for daring to even _look_ at his woman, but Jemma was right; he had no right to be angry if she couldn’t tell people she wasn’t available. “Fine. You want proof, I’ll give you proof. And when I’m done, pretty boy Salinas will know damn well that you’re not on the market. I’m not gonna stop leaving marks until I’m sure _everyone_ will know you’re _mine_.”

He knew what she was doing, of course; knew that she was provoking him, but he also knew that she wouldn’t lie to him. Which meant Salinas really _had_ asked her out. Had looked at her, flirted with her, probably fantasized about her; all because he thought she was available. Because _Jack_ hadn’t made it clear that she _wasn’t_.

Well, fuck it. He was going to goddamn well do something about that right now. Jemma was going to go into work tomorrow morning looking thoroughly ravished, and then he was going to drop by at least a couple of times during the day and kiss the breath out of her in front of all her co-workers. SHIELD’s gossip mill would do the rest.

Agent Salinas wouldn’t step within ten feet of Jack Rollins’ woman ever again.

Not if he wanted to keep all his teeth, anyway…


	42. Fitz/Sam, for celiaequus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 9 -** “No — no. Just keep your clothes on" Fitz/Sam, for celiaequus

 

 _Of all the people to get stranded with in a thunderstorm…_ Fitz dared a quick glance across at Sam, at the way the taller man walked straight and easy even on the slippery track they were following.

“I can’t believe I couldn’t get the car going again,” he said dismally.

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Fitz,” Sam glanced across at him with a smile. “I’m pretty sure that without any tools even Stark couldn’t have got that hunk o’junk up and running. Next time I’ll have to steal a car with a toolkit in the trunk.”

Fitz gave Sam a cheeky smile. “Or maybe one that was built in this millennium, even?”

“Tell you what, _you_ pick it out next time. When I was runnin’ for my life I was just grateful to find something with the keys already in it.” Sam grinned back at him, thinking how cute the young engineer was, with his big blue eyes and his curly hair, plastered down to his skull at the moment by the heavy rain pelting them both.

“It got us out of a sticky situation, there’s that at least,” Fitz agreed. “If only I hadn’t dropped my phone when I ran to get in!”

“No use cryin’ over spilt milk, as my momma always says,” Sam said philosophically. “Come on, Agent. Can’t be all that much further to the road, we’ll hitch a ride there.”

Fitz sighed and trudged on, hugging his arms around himself. He’d been wearing a shirt and jeans, not expecting everything to go to shit, and now he was freezing. He startled as something warm and dry dropped around his shoulders.

“What the…” it was Sam’s flight jacket. “No - no. Just keep your clothes on,” he blathered, unable to stop staring at the way the white T-shirt Sam was wearing, the way it clung lovingly to his muscles as the rain soaked through it.

“It’s only my jacket, Agent.” Sam grinned down at him. “Though I’m not averse to taking the rest of them off once we find somewhere a little more sheltered to dry off.” He arched his eyebrows at Fitz’s scalding blush and shy sideways glance. “You know. Share body heat and all that.”

“I could maybe go for that idea,” Fitz mumbled shyly, hardly able to believe what was happening, as Sam’s warm strong hand curled around his wet one.

“Good,” Sam said, and then about five seconds later “Goodness me, a deserted, isolated cabin. How _very_ fortuitous.”


	43. Steve/Daisy for squirt304

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****  
>  _June 12_   
>    
>  _\- “Can I sit on your lap?” Steve/Daisy for squirt304_

Steve could rarely keep his eyes off Daisy whenever the two of them were in the same room. Clint had brought her in a couple of weeks earlier - he appeared to have become the official Avengers recruiter, somehow - and she'd quickly integrated into the team, becoming bosom friends with Wanda in no time at all. Sam treated her like a baby sister, Vision delighted in her… everyone seemed comfortable with her except Steve, who wanted to kick himself for it when he reverted to formality and aloofness in her presence.

Well, he was determined to try and be more friendly to her tonight. Because otherwise it was only a matter of time before Sam and Bucky clued into his stupid crush, and then he'd never hear the end of it.

Taking a sip of beer from the bottle on the table in front of him, Steve wished, and not for the first time, that his enhanced metabolism hadn't stolen his ability to get drunk. A few loosened inhibitions could come in very handy about now.

Natasha dropped into the vacant seat beside him suddenly, making Steve start. “Nat,” he nodded to her.

“You look like you're waiting for something,” Natasha gave him a knowing look, and Steve mentally cursed a blue streak. “Or some _one_.”

“Not at all,” he said, doing his best to sound casual.

“You won't mind if I sit here, then.” She didn't make it a question.

Steve minded very much. She'd taken the only vacant seat at the table, one he'd hoped Daisy might occupy. He shrugged, trying for nonchalant.

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Yoohoo, Daisy!” Natasha leaned across him to wave. “Come over here a minute!”

Daisy, laughing with Rhodey and Tony, waved in acknowledgement, extricated herself from the conversation gracefully and came over, smiling.

“Hey, Nat. Steve,” she offered the smile to him as well. It was all Steve could do not to fall in an incoherently babbling, blushing heap at her feet. He managed a silent nod in response.

“I wanted to talk to you about that hacking worm you showed me this afternoon,” Natasha said, but she was speaking rather quietly and Daisy couldn't really hear her. She leaned closer, realised she was nearly shoving her boobs in Steve's face, and hastily backed off again.

“Oh, just sit on his lap. He won't mind, and then we can talk,” Natasha said.

Steve was about to leap to his feet at that, give Daisy his chair and flee, except that Natasha’s hand wrapped around his wrist, nails digging in sharply as she pulled downwards.

Daisy looked a little doubtfully at Steve. The Avengers were quite casual in their displays of physical affection - she'd never been hugged so much in her life, before she arrived here - but Steve didn't seem to have included her in the friendly hugs and back-patting he dished out so freely to the others, yet. He wasn't even looking at her now, was looking at Nat, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“ _Can_ I sit on your lap?” she asked.

Natasha's fingernails dug in harder.

“Sure,” Steve said quickly. “Any time.” He shoved his chair back a bit to make room for her.

Shrugging, Daisy promptly sat down, and _wiggled her bottom on his lap_ to settle herself comfortably.

Steve was fairly sure that he was about to die of shame. He had superb control over literally every single muscle in his body, except for the _one_ he really needed at that moment, which apparently very much had a mind of his own. There was _no possible way_ that Daisy could miss the instant boner he popped up against her ass.

Daisy froze, staring at Natasha, who grinned wickedly at her before getting up and sauntering off.

Steve had absolutely no idea what to do. He just sat there, face flaming, desperately willing his stubbornly persistent erection to go down. Until Daisy twisted around and looked him in the eye.

“Is _this_ why you’ve been so cold with me?”

“Cold!” he said, startled, before realising that he could quite possibly have come across that way, in his avoidance and silence in her presence. “I… yes.”

“ _Well_ ,” staring at his flushed cheeks and downcast eyes, Daisy really had no idea what to say. She’d been crushing madly on Steve ever since she arrived, but she’d thought he didn’t like her, for whatever reason she was unsure. Finding out that he was actually attracted to her was quite a shock. “Well. Maybe we should go somewhere private and… discuss this development?”

Being alone with Daisy, a Daisy who didn’t appear to be at all repulsed by his body’s involuntary response to her closeness, seemed like Steve’s idea of heaven at that moment. He nodded mutely. And then realised that he was going to have to take his jacket off and carry it in front of him, draped over his arm, because watching Daisy’s hips sway as she walked out of the room in front of him really wasn’t helping with his current state...


	44. Sam/Daisy for theineffableamberjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 12 -** _“You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” QuakeFalcon for theineffableamberjae_

“Oh, Sam,” Daisy sighed as he staggered in through the apartment’s front door, across the living room and collapsed face down on the couch. “You didn’t.”

“Can’t help myself,” he mumbled into a cushion.

“Did they say ‘on your left’ again?”

“About sixty fucking times, between the lot of them. It’s not fair, T’Challa’s not even super-serummed, how can _he_ fucking lap me like he does?”

Daisy smiled behind Sam’s back, sat down beside him on the couch and paused, her hand hovering above his sweaty shirt, nose wrinkling slightly.

“They do it because they know how much it riles you, darling. You need to stop going out and trying to match them. You can fly, remember. They’re jealous of _that_.”

“Ugh,” he rolled over, looking up at her. “I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“You’ll note that Clint, who’s the same age as you, isn’t daft enough to go running with them. And he’s widely acknowledged to be the _actual_ idiot of the Avengers.”

Sam smiled wryly up at her. Daisy offered the water bottle she was holding.

“Oh, _you_ are the actual _angel_ of the Avengers,” he took it from her and gulped down half of it. “I don’t think I can get off the couch,” he realised then. “My legs feel like cooked spaghetti.”

She had to laugh, got up and went to fetch a towel, tossing it at him. “Dry off some of that sweat and I’ll massage them for you.”

Sam groaned with pleasure at the thought. Daisy’s skill with vibrations made for the most incredible massages. Towelling his legs off, he collapsed back against the cushions.

“You’re cute when you’re tired, you know,” Daisy said, smiling down at him, at his closed eyes, at his solidly muscled body relaxing under her touch.

“I’m cute all the time,” Sam said with a lazy smirk, not opening his eyes.

Daisy chuckled, shaking her head. “So modest, too.”

“Yup.” He opened his eyes and grinned more widely. “So much to be modest _about_. Good looks, talent, the most amazingly gorgeous girlfriend…” Reaching out for her, he grabbed her arms and yanked her atop him for a kiss.

“Ew, you’re all sweaty!” Daisy protested laughingly, wriggling to get away.

“Come and shower with me, then,” Sam invited temptingly.

“So you’re not _that_ tired, then.”

“Sweetheart, I’d have to be dead not to want you, not just tired,” his hands drifted down to her ass, squeezed lightly. “So about that shower…”

“Well now you’ve got me all smelly and sweaty too, I don’t suppose I have much choice,” she sighed affectedly, grinned down at him. “Come on then.” She helped him stand with only a faint groan or two, followed him to the bathroom - and just before he got there, darted past him with a pat to his ass and a cheeky “On your left!”

“Oh, you are so gonna get it for that,” Sam warned.

“Counting on it!” she gave him a wicked look over her shoulder, turning the shower on and pulling off the robe she was wearing, tossing it at Sam. He batted it away with a grin and followed her in under the hot spray, forgetting about his weary muscles entirely.


	45. Steve/Remy for thepoolofthedead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 12 -** _"Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. Yes is the answer.” Steve/Remy for thepoolofthedead_

“So, _cher_ ,” Remy perched on the arm of the couch beside Steve, making him jump, “why the long face?”

Steve gave the other man a weak smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not feeling down or anything. I just,” he gestured around the room, “I’m still not quite accustomed to social events these days. Not that I was ever all that comfortable in social settings.”

“Oh, Remy could never have guessed that, _cher_ ,” Remy said with a derisive snort. “Considering that I had to almost drag you along to this party.”

“I had enough of being a poster boy on the USO tour,” Steve muttered under his breath.

Remy heard him, of course; he laughed aloud and slid bonelessly down into the couch, edging Steve over and looping a long arm around his shoulders. “Oh, I have seen the photos, _cher_. A very pretty poster boy you made too.” He smacked his lips together appreciatively.

“Shut up,” Steve’s ears flamed pink. He liked Remy; despite his apparent youth, Remy was actually the closest in the room to Steve’s own true age, and it showed in his attitude, his calm, worldly air of _seen-it-all-before_. Sometimes, though, Remy’s flirting got to him, made him wish… for things he probably shouldn’t be wishing for.

“Sex sells, _cher_ , and you were very sexy in that outfit. Those red boots, in particular, Remy liked those very much...”

“Gah, why does everyone think that sex is the answer to everything!” Steve almost shouted it, driven almost to madness by the hot length of Remy’s body pressed right against his side, the Cajun’s long fingers lightly brushing his thigh.

“Sex? _Non_ , sex is not the answer, _cher_.” Remy looked him right in the eye, licked his lips slowly. “Sex is the _question_.”

Steve gulped, unable to mistake Remy’s meaning. Not with those clever fingers now trailing slowly up the inseam of his pants, the arched eyebrow as Remy waited for his response.

“I… I… I suppose yes is the answer, then,” he stammered after a moment.

“ _C’est bon_. Then let us blow this dull party and go have a much more interesting private party for just the two of us, _oui_?” Sliding his fingers into Steve’s, Remy pulled him up off the couch easily. “I think you will like _Remy’s_ party a whole lot more.”

Steve was pretty sure he would, too.


	46. Pietro/Daisy for starlit007day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 12 -** _"My sexual preference is often" Pietro/Daisy for starlit007day_

It took quite a few minutes for Daisy to catch her breath. Pietro was - well, he certainly wasn’t quick about _everything_ , that was for sure. He’d most definitely taken his time with her, anyway, taken the time to figure out exactly what she liked, his quick hands and mouth all over her, finding erogenous zones she hadn’t even known she possessed.

She’d come twice from his touch alone, well before he knelt between her thighs and slid deep into her, murmuring guttural words of praise in his native tongue and showing her a _damn_ good time.

He lay beside her now, sprawled out comfortably, unconcerned about his nudity. But then, Daisy thought, surveying his lean, firmly muscled length, he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of in that department. She rolled to her side and rested her chin on his shoulder; he turned his head to smile at her, blue eyes glinting with amusement.

“You enjoyed yourself, then, eh?”

“I think you _know_ I did,” she smiled back at him, and he rolled fully onto his side to pull her close for a kiss.

“Mm,” he pulled back, smacked his lips. “You taste so good. I like kissing you so much.”

“What else do you like, Pietro?”

He cocked his head at her curiously, silvery curls tumbling across his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that you’ve now got a pretty fair idea of what I like in bed, but I don’t know much more about your preferences than I did an hour ago.”

Pietro blinked. “I do not understand. I had good time too, Daisy…”

“I know that,” she said a little impatiently. It had been pretty obvious, after all, the way he’d groaned and shuddered, the jerk of his hips and the heat flooding inside her. “That’s not what I meant - I mean, what do you like, _specifically_? What’s your preference, sexually?”

“My preference?” his grin widened. “My sexual preference… is _often_.”

Daisy’s eyes widened, her mouth opened with surprise, as Pietro ground against her and she realised that he was unmistakably aroused.

Again.

Already.

“What the…” _It hadn’t even been five minutes!_

“Enhanced metabolism,” Pietro said with a decidedly filthy grin. “Means my recovery period is short… _very_ short.”

She gasped as he twisted deftly, rolling her beneath him. “So, my beautiful flower,” Pietro murmured, “are you ready for round two?”


	47. Thor/Clint/Darcy for roseskye13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 13** \- _Thor/Darcy/Clint - anything so long as Thor calls Darcy "little one" for roseskye13_

Darcy had expected all sorts of wild and wonderful things to happen to her, working for the Avengers.

Dating a demigod AND the archer who never missed, both at the same time? In an apparently stable and very sexually satisfied relationship?

Really hadn’t been even in the realms of where her imagination could stretch to.

Both of them forgetting her birthday was pretty much a return to Situation Normal, All Men Are Assholes, though. She sighed despondently and peered into the freezer.

 _Might as well comfort myself with ice cream - if there’s any left_ … she cursed as she realised someone had stolen her half tub of Chunky Monkey.

“It even had my fucking name on it, you bastards!” she slammed the freezer door, and almost choked on her own outrage as Clint said behind her;

“Looking for this?”

“That’s mine!” she yelled at him, making a grab for the tub. He spun round and ran for it, fleeing swiftly for their room. Darcy pursued him, demanding that he return the purloined ice cream _IMMEDIATELY!_

Clint dashed through the bedroom door, and Darcy suddenly wondered if he was playing some sort of game. Could turn out interesting, especially if he was willing to let her use the ice cream on him…

She stopped short, mouth falling open with surprise at the sight that greeted her. Thor, spread-eagled on their bed, hands and feet tied to the head and footboard, a large blue ribbon tied in a slightly lopsided bow around his not at all lopsided erection. Clint, standing by the bed grinning at her.

“Happy birthday, Darcy,” they chorused in unison.

“Wh-what?” she stuttered, astonished.

“Do you not want to unwrap your gift, little one?” Thor gave her one of his slow smiles, the one that always made her heart go pitter-patter and heat well between her legs.

“I wrapped it up so nicely for you, too,” Clint added.

“Give me that ice cream,” she demanded, holding her hand out. “And get out your cuffs and my riding crop. You’ve been a very, very bad boy. I’ll unwrap _this_ present - while you wrap _yourself_ up for me too.”


	48. Frank Castle/Darcy Lewis for lovebuckybarnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _June 16 -_  
>  **  
>  _"I'm personally offended that you didn't ask me to be your fake date" Frank Castle/Darcy Lewis for lovebuckybarnes_
> 
>  
> 
> _Set in the[Excellent Taste In Dogs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/14503855) AU; Frank and Darcy haven’t known each other very long, though._

“Dammit,” Darcy flopped down on the couch and buried her face in her hands. She’d been so sure that Clint would be absolutely the perfect candidate to take to her sister’s stupid wedding. Older but not by too much (Tony, Rhodey, Bruce), handsome but not breathtakingly unbelievable (Steve, Bucky), capable of behaving himself in social situations (Pietro), and most importantly, would actually be willing to put on a monkey suit and play nice to humour her (Frank). Because much as she was falling hopelessly in love with Frank, she was pretty damn sure that he would flatly refuse.

Therefore, she wasn’t going to ask. Even though Clint had regretfully had to decline because he and Nat were leaving on some secretive mission.

“Who the hell else can I take?” she wondered. _Matt?_ No, while Matt probably would, her mother would be unbelievably tactless and ableist about his blindness; Darcy couldn’t in good conscience inflict that on him.

“Foggy!” Perfect solution. A Columbia-educated lawyer with a junior partnership at a big New York firm, charming, friendly… she grabbed for her phone.

“Darcy, I’m so sorry, but I’m taking Marci away that week. We’re going to Paris…” she could hear the dreamy happiness in Foggy’s voice, promptly wished him well and told him to have a lovely time and not worry about her at all. Hanging up, she tossed her phone into the couch cushions with a groan of despair.

"I'm personally offended that you didn't ask me to be your fake date," a deep voice said, and she startled up with a squawk.

“Dammit, Frank, make a noise!”

Bunny came skittering across the floor to her for a cuddle, and she rubbed his bullet-shaped, scarred head, looking at the man standing straight and tall in the doorway.

“Why didn’t you ask me, Darcy?” Frank took a step further into the room, reaching out to hang Bunny’s lead on its peg.

“It’s my sister’s fourth wedding,” she said feebly, “you’d hate every minute of it, my mother is impossibly prying and my sisters will all spend the whole weekend not-at-all-subtly putting me down.”

“I can deal with prying. Why would your sisters do that?”

“They’ve spent my whole life doing it, why would they change now?” Darcy shrugged. “I’m the kooky one in the family. And also the only one who takes after my father.”

He gave her a penetrating look. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because all my sisters take after my mom’s side of the family, they’re tall, blonde, slender and waifish. Wouldn’t look at all out of place in Rivendell. And I’m, well, me.” She gestured down at herself, at her generous bosom and rounded hips. “Here,” thinking of something suddenly, she went into her bedroom and came out holding a photo album. “This was at Kitty’s second wedding, three years ago.”

Frank’s lips tightened as he looked at the photo. He’d known that Darcy was the youngest of seven daughters, but he’d had no idea what that really meant until now. She stood slightly apart from the others, at the end of the line, wearing a hot-pink, strapless sheath dress clearly designed to suit the colouring and build of the blonde elfin women who made up the rest of the group. It did nothing for Darcy at all, squashing her breasts and hips unflatteringly and disguising her tiny waist.

“Are you a bridesmaid again this time?” he asked.

“No, thank God. Twelve times is more than enough, thirteen would just be unlucky. Lizzy’s decided she wants all my nieces to be adorable instead. I’ll probably end up spending the day wrangling them while my sisters get plastered and look for new husbands,” Darcy said gloomily.

“No, you won’t.” He shook his head firmly. “Because I’m going to take you out shopping for a knock-their-socks off dress that cost more than all their last divorce settlements put together, and then at the wedding I’m going to silence anyone who even _thinks_ about trying to put you down with my best Punisher Death Stare.”

Darcy wanted to melt, as Frank took the album from her hands and dropped it on the table. “You might be recognised, though,” she said practically.

“Darcy, literally everyone thinks I’m dead. And I promise you, no matter how little your family think of you, they are not going to believe that you brought The Punisher as your date to your sister’s wedding.” He grinned, the expression lightening his sombre face.

“If you smile like that nobody would recognise you anyway,” she said, weakening, and he stepped forward and slipped his arms around her, bending his head to press gentle kisses against her forehead, her cheeks.

“I always want to smile like this when I’m with you,” Frank whispered against her lips just before he kissed her.

“Hey,” he lifted his head a couple of minutes later, smiling with pleasure at Darcy’s dreamy expression, “let’s take Buddy. He’d be a great flower-dog.”

Darcy looked at the scarred dog sitting on the couch watching them, his tongue lolling out as he panted happily. Thought about her sisters’ expressions when she turned up with Frank on her arm and Bunny on a leash with a large ribbon bow around his neck.

“What an _awesome_ idea.”


	49. Clint/Logan for carudnick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 18 -** _"How did you get in there?" Clint/Logan, for carudnick (no airvents)_

Logan closed his door and heaved a sigh of relief. He liked working at the school, he really did, but sometimes all the people just got to be too much for him. Kicking his boots off and leaving them where they fell, he opened the small fridge by his bed, pulled out a beer, cracked it open and flopped down to sit on his bed with a groan. The headboard clunked dully against the wall.

“Hello?” a plaintive voice said faintly to his left.

Logan shot to his feet with a yell, beer sloshing onto his hand. He licked at it, staring at the wall next to the bed.

“Someone there?” he rumbled after a moment. As far as he knew, there was nobody in the next-door room; it was a rarely used guest room. In fact, where the voice had come from was an odd little space where the two rooms met at an angle; Logan suspected it was a gap not quite large enough to be a closet so it had just been walled off. It was probably large enough to fit a man. Maybe.

“Clint Barton,” the voice said, and Logan’s eyebrows shot up. He’d only met the archer the once, but he’d rather liked the guy. He was staying at the mansion temporarily, teaching some of the kids ASL and some of his skills with weapons. Logan couldn’t help but like him because he’d been kind to Rogue, telling her that if she didn’t want to use her gifts but still wanted to be useful, then learning to cover her team-mates from a distance was an essential skill to have.

“How did you get in there?” Logan asked curiously, stepping up to the wall and tapping against it.

Clint sighed, and Logan heard a soft thud, as though maybe Clint had dropped his forehead against the other side of the wall. “Do I have to tell you?”

“If ya want my help gettin’ out of there, yeah, I think so,” Logan said, beginning to feel rather amused.

“Shadowcat,” Clint confessed.

“Little Kitty phased you in there? Why?”

“Let’s just say that the prank war I may or may not have started… she kinda escalated it.”

Chuckling now, Logan set his beer bottle down and surveyed the wall thoughtfully. “This is gonna make kind of a mess,” he murmured. “Can you move back?”

“No. If I could, I could probably get enough space to punch through the plasterboard myself. This is basically a vertical coffin.”

“Well, I guess you’ve learned your lesson about pissin’ off Kitty,” Logan said, letting one set of his claws emerge with a _snickt_. “Next time, you prob’ly won’t be _above_ ground.” He made a careful, vertical slice, no more than a half-inch into the plasterboard.

“Christ, careful with those things!” Clint squeaked.

“I got ya.” Another vertical slice, two feet to the left. A horizontal one, about six feet off the floor. Another, at ankle level. “There. Shove forward.”

There was a thump, and a large rectangle of plasterboard toppled forward and landed on the floor. Clint stepped out of the gap with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Thanks, man.”

Logan lifted his reclaimed beer in a toast. Clint’s eyes landed on it.

“Oh, wow, you got another one of those? I’ve been in there hours, I’m parched.”

With a shrug, Logan gestured towards the fridge. Clint dived over eagerly and grabbed another beer. “Thanks!” he gasped after taking a long slug, collapsing to sit on Logan’s bed.

Where… he looked very nice, Logan had to admit. Especially when he wiggled around a bit to get comfortable, looked up at Logan and smiled, blue-green eyes shining.

“So, I guess I’ve learned my lesson about pranking Miss Pryde. Any thoughts about good tricks to play on Rogue? That girl needs to laugh more.”

“I think I could fall in love with you,” Logan said unthinkingly.

“Yeah?” Clint raised his eyebrows, surprised, before a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, I’m already on your bed, so why don’t you come over here and kiss me, loverboy?”


	50. RumSkye (DaisyBones) for vigilantewives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 19 -** _"I'm not gonna stop leaving marks till I'm sure everyone will know you're mine." RumSkye for vigilantewives_

She loved it when he was firm with her. When his strong hands grasped her hips and held her still for him to use, rough, just as she liked it. Arching back against him, she moaned, deliberately wanton.

“I told you to be quiet,” Brock rasped out harshly. “Are you _trying_ to get us caught?”

Daisy chuckled, trailing off into another moan as he thrust hard against her. “Maybe,” she gasped breathlessly.

“Coulson is not going to take it well if he finds out I’m fucking his adoptive daughter,” Brock pointed out.

“He’s going to find out sooner or later.”

“And you really want it to be like this? Him finding me fucking you senseless in a closet on Zephyr One?”

“He’s not even aboard right now,” she let out a high, whimpering whine as he reached around and pinched her clit sharply.

“Don’t you sass me. May’s aboard, and she’d tell him in a hot minute.”

“She’s busy flying, Brock, _pleeeease_!” Daisy squealed as he rolled her clit hard in his fingers, pushing her hard back onto his impalement.

“Please what?” he growled, nipping at her earlobe.

“I want to come, please, please let me!”

“What else do you want?”

She didn’t answer, not until he pulled teasingly half-way out and hovered there. “I want to stop sneaking around,” she admitted at last when he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, what she _needed_. “I don’t care who knows. I’m not ashamed of you.”

“What about you? Are you ashamed of what you let me do to you?” Brock demanded, giving her a little more of what she wanted, pushing a little deeper, making slow, steady thrusts.

“No,” Daisy denied, “never!”

“So you _want_ to be found out.” He was so surprised, he almost pulled completely out, stopped only by her plaintive wail.

Daisy didn’t reply, and Brock had to sigh. “This ain’t the way, sweetheart.” He stopped moving, pressed his lips lightly against her throat.

“I want to be _yours_ ,” she whimpered. “I want everyone to _know_ I’m yours. I’m tired of pretending that we only work together, that I’m the one who gives you orders.”

“You do give me orders, sweetheart.”

“Just not when we’re like this…” she sobbed as he suddenly thrust deep again. “Oh god, Brock, please, please…”

“I got you, sweetheart,” adjusting his grip on her, he let go of her clit, slapped down on her outer thigh with the flat of his hand suddenly, the sharp _crack!_ making her jump just as much as the pain. “You want me to lay claim to you. Publicly.”

“Y-yes,” she gasped as he struck again. “Yes, Brock, that’s it, that’s what I want!”

“All you ever had to do was tell me, sweetheart,” he growled against her ear before his mouth latched hard onto her throat, sucking a black bruise into the tender skin. High up under her jawline, there was no way she’d be able to hide or disguise it.

Daisy moaned with pleasure, the first pulses of her orgasm beginning to ripple through her. Brock gasped, before groaning delightedly.

“Well, if that’s what you want, sweetheart - I won’t stop leaving marks until _everyone_ knows you’re mine.” Switching his target a little further down her throat, he bit down again even as he started thrusting harder into her clenching body.

Daisy could only sob with delight as Brock gave her exactly, precisely what she needed, as he finally stopped being careful and took full and complete possession of her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May was waiting, arms folded, when they finally came out.

“Really?” she said wryly, looking at Daisy’s bruised throat, her messy hair, her swollen lips and satisfied smirk. “And this is how you decided to let me know?”

“Subtlety’s never been my strong point,” Brock said blandly.

May rolled her eyes at him, but then she looked back at Daisy, waiting for her answer. “I take it this is your way of heading off Coulson having a heart attack when he thinks you’re getting involved with Rumlow, because he knows all about Rumlow’s _proclivities_?”

“Aha,” Brock said in enlightened tones, “it’s in my file, is it?”

“It was in the file he gave me,” Daisy slipped her hand into his. “I think he might have been trying to warn me off.”

“Well _that_ backfired rather spectacularly, didn’t it?” Brock grinned.

“So I thought I’d demonstrate enthusiastic consent and kind of head him off at the pass,” Daisy ducked her head, glanced back up at him through her lashes and smiled.

“I’ll give _you_ enthusiastic consent.” Completely ignoring May, he tightened his fingers around hers and pulled her back into the closet, closing the door behind them.

May sighed, shaking her head, a small, amused smile playing about her lips.

“Hey, May, you seen Tremors?” Mack’s deep voice rumbled a moment later, and she turned, hastily putting her back to the closed door.

“No! Not at all. Not a clue where she is.”

Mack gave her an odd look for her hurried, gabbled answer before nodding and heading out of the compartment. May heard a muffled giggle behind her.

“You two better disinfect that closet when you’re done,” she warned, “because if Mack finds out you’ve been defiling it, Coulson’s reaction will be the _least_ of your worries!”


	51. RumSkye for darkwoman20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _June 21_  
>  **  
>  _\- "Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth" Rumlow/Skye for darkwoman20 (In the[Stockholm Syndrome Works Both Ways](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3351152/chapters/7331492) Universe please!)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Takes place after the wedding in Chapter 30._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, by the way, is the dress I imagined Skye wearing.  
> [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/5409bd156b4ff2ffd6e714de8c15ace8_zpswhuq6fvq.jpg.html)

 

Skye’s dress was the most beautiful thing Brock had ever seen. Or rather, Skye _in_ that dress was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He drank her in with his eyes as they danced together, flatly refusing to let anyone else dance with her after Phil had claimed one.

“Nope, that’s your lot,” Brock told Hunter firmly as he tried to cut in. “She’s mine and I ain’t sharing.” His arms tightened around Skye, and she laughed.

“I don’t think there’s any danger of Hunter stealing me from you, darling.”

“There isn’t,” Brock replied confidently, “but today of all days, I’m not sharing you any more than I have to. I didn’t even get to see you until you were halfway down the aisle! Two _days,_ it’s been!”

She laughed at him gently, leaning into him to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “Has it been so very difficult for you, darling?”

“Impossible,” he grumbled. “What were they doing with you for all that time, anyway?” Natasha had descended and swept all of the women out of the base two days earlier.

“We were at a very glamorous spa resort on Pepper Potts’ dime,” Skye grinned up at him. “Being pampered and preened.”

“You don’t need it. You look just as beautiful to me as ever,” though even as he said it, he realised that her hair looked maybe a little more glossy, her skin even smoother, more luminous than usual. “Even more beautiful in this dress, though. I’ve seen you dressed up before but this is something else.”

Skye smiled as he skimmed his hand lightly over the fine lace over her hip. “I can tell you like it. I’ve seen you eyeing me all day.”

“True,” he said unrepentantly.

“In fact, I’ve been thinking, darling…” she reached up to whisper in his ear. “You should stop undressing me with your eyes, and start using your teeth.”

Brock’s hands tightened on her waist, and he glanced around. “It’s probably really bad form to sneak off from our own wedding reception.”

“Probably,” Skye agreed.

“We’re going to do it anyway, aren’t we?”

“I shall just blame your _animal_ need to claim your mate.” She grinned mischievously up at him, and Brock shook his head.

“I can’t win with you, can I?”

Skye pretended to think about it for a moment before peeking up at him through her lashes. “Do you really want to?”

“No,” he chuckled, “no, not at all. Come on then, missy,” and with an easy move he scooped her up in his arms and carried her off, only laughing at all the whoops and catcalls that followed their departure.


	52. Bucky/Jemma for anifreakazoid-blog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 21 -** _"Wait, you want me to do what now?" Bucky/female of choice for anifreakazoid-blog_
> 
> I picked Jemma because I thought of a funny scenario :)

“Wait, you want me to do _what_ now?” Bucky backed up a step, blinking down at the small woman in front of him. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

“I said, take your clothes off. I can hardly give you the mandated full physical examination with them _on_ , can I now?”

He looked around a little helplessly, but they were quite alone. “What did you say your name was, again?” Bucky looked back at the tiny, determined woman.

“Agent Simmons. Agent Jemma Simmons. I’m a doctor.” She took a small step towards him, dropping her hands from her hips, holding them out towards him, palms up. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sergeant Barnes. You already trusted Agent Fitz to examine your arm for fail-safes and overrides. Won’t you trust me, too?”

She had a gentle look to her, softly appealing. She was the kind of girl Bucky hadn’t been close to in more years then he could remember; the thought of her light hands on his body was actually very arousing.

“I don’t think any fail-safes and overrides I might still have are physical, doll,” he said quietly. Tapped the side of his brow.

“Well, we can deal with those too,” Jemma said with a little smile. “You’d be surprised. And you might be surprised at the unusual physical alterations I’ve seen that you might not even be aware of. From something as simple as a cyanide capsule in a tooth to entire limbs replaced - with ones so realistically human you might not even be able to tell.”

Bucky stared at her with horror. “You mean - not like this eyesore?” he gestured with his cybernetic arm.

“Oh, it’s not an eyesore, it’s an astounding piece of engineering, you should have heard Fitz rave about it, and really it’s quite beautiful…” she reached out to touch it, blushed with confusion, and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be touching you without your permission…”

Bucky saw the funny side and grinned. “Well, you told me to get all my kit off, I kind of assumed a little bit of touching would come with the territory. I just expected that I’d, you know, go behind a curtain or something. Ain’t never been examined by a lady doctor before.”

“Oh. Oh, really?” Jemma blushed again, let out a small giggle. “Gosh. Well, I _am_ sorry, I didn’t mean to, er, _disconcert_ you.”

“I’m not at all averse to lettin’ you put your hands all over me, actually,” charmed by her blush, Bucky unzipped his hoodie, shrugged it off, deliberately slowly. She wanted him to strip, he’d give her a strip _tease_.

She should definitely not be enjoying this so much. He was her _patient_. But, oh Lord, the way Bucky _looked_ as he pulled his henley off over his head, stomach muscles rippling, a fine happy trail down over his abdomen drawing her eyes downwards as he reached to unbuckle his belt. Jemma licked her lips unconsciously, staring unabashedly, wondering if maybe he’d turn his back…

… apparently not. And apparently he wasn’t in the least bit shy about letting her know that his body was _fully_ functional in at least _one_ area.

“Goodness me,” Jemma said faintly as Bucky removed his pants, socks and boots and stood naked and proud in front of her.

“Ready for inspection, doc,” he said, blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Where would you like to start?”

“Uhhh,” she didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off that _very_ erect cock. Grinning at her expression, Bucky turned around.

“We could save that for last.”

“This side isn’t much less distracting,” Jemma mumbled, staring now at a quite magnificent ass, atop gloriously muscular thighs.

“Y’all gonna have to pick, doll,” he was openly laughing at her now. “Whichever you like. _What_ ever you like.”

“You shouldn’t tempt a girl like that,” Jemma tried to sound light-hearted.

“No?” Bucky looked back over his shoulder at her, his brown hair falling across his eyes.

“You’re an incorrigible flirt,” she discovered, finally managing to snap herself out of it and reaching for her medical case. “I thought all those stories in the Howling Commandos biopics must have been exaggerated.”

“They probably were; there weren’t too many women running around on the front lines in those days,” Bucky said with a shrug. “And since then, I think you’re the first woman I’ve been alone with that I hadn’t been sent to kill.”

She froze, her hand hovering above his back where she’d been just about to touch him. Glancing back at her, seeing the sudden fright on her face, Bucky turned, caught her hand gently in his and lifted it to his lips to lightly kiss her fingertips, before lowering it and pressing it against his chest, just over his heart.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Jemma. Won’t ever hurt you.”

“Well,” she looked at her hand, at his pressing lightly down on it, holding it against his pectoral muscle, “I’m not _completely_ averse to the idea of your hurting me, in the right circumstances. We might just need to negotiate some safewords first…”


	53. Jemma/Bucky for hutch2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 22 -** _“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.” Jemma/Bucky for @hutch2014_

/a>

It actually took Bucky a few moments to recognise her. Jemma always dressed nicely, usually in tailored slacks or skirt and pretty blouses, a jacket over the top if it was cool. He liked the way she always took the time to select her outfits, matching pieces together and always looking fresh and elegant. Even on the rare occasions she had to go into the field, she somehow managed to make standard-issue SHIELD tactical gear look fashionable.

Tonight, however, was a special occasion, it was May’s birthday - not that any of them knew how old she actually was - and Daisy and Jemma were throwing her a surprise birthday party. Bucky had helped by inviting May to spar and keeping her out of the way for a couple of hours a day for the past week, though he was pretty sure that she suspected something. Anyway, the point was that Jemma had obviously decided to dress up, and from some corner of her wardrobe had plucked what Bucky would forever afterwards think as The Dress.

It was blue, royal blue, a favourite colour of his on her, with a fine black lace overlay, and it clung to her form, nipping in her tiny waist, the scoop neck just hinting at her cleavage. It was the hemline that caught Bucky’s attention, though; he’d honestly never seen a woman wear a dress so short. He was pretty sure that if she bent over, he’d catch more than a glimpse of her pretty bottom.

“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight,” he blurted, before mentally kicking himself. He should have said something about how gorgeous she looked first.

Fortunately, Jemma had become skilled at translating Bucky-speak over the last few months. Leaning forward towards the mirror to check her lip gloss, she glanced at him in the reflection.

“You won’t let me out of your sight anyway.”

“True enough,” he admitted. “Can you even bend over in that thing?”

“Oh, yes,” she cast him a smouldering look over her shoulder before bending right over to put on the high-heeled pumps that were waiting on the floor, and giving Bucky a really good look at the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“You little minx,” he gaped, before taking three quick strides forward and grasping her around the waist, pulling her back hard against his body. “We’re gonna be late to the party,” he growled against her neck.

“It doesn’t start for another hour anyway,” Jemma gasped as his hands jerked up the hem of her dress.

“We’re still gonna be late, because an hour isn’t nearly enough!”


	54. Rumlow/Rollins/Skye for uncomfortablequandary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 23 -** _“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.” Rumlow/Rollins/Skye for uncomfortablequandary_

“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight. Either of you.”

Jack and Brock turned around simultaneously, grinning at Skye’s shocked expression.

“Sweetheart, it’s a fancy dress party,” Brock pointed out. “For _your_ best friend’s birthday. _You_ were the one who insisted that we had to fit the theme.”

“I really didn’t think it through, did I?” she looked him up and down. “Damn Jemma for her obsession with the Regency era anyway, though I’m pretty sure that costume isn’t authentic.”

“It’s exactly like the one the model on the front of one of Jemma’s Regency romances was wearing, so nyah,” Brock grinned at her.

“... I don’t think that counts as authentic.”

“I don’t think Jemma will care.”

Damn him, because he was right; Jemma’s proven weakness for both handsome men and rubbish Regency romances would absolutely have her sweeping aside any historical inaccuracies, because Brock did look exactly like he’d just stepped off the cover of a pirate novel.

He was wearing a white silk shirt slashed open to the waist, black pants so tight there was absolutely nothing left to the imagination as to what he was packing beneath them - which Skye was pretty sure didn’t include underwear - tall black slouch boots and an honest-to-god _cutlass_ sheathed at his belt. A couple of gold chains and pendants dangling on his chest and a gold earring at his ear completed the look and made Skye feel a bit faint.

And that was before she even looked at Jack, who _was_ wearing authentic costume, or as near as she could tell.

He was dressed as a soldier, in a red coat frogged with gold, white pants just as tight as Brock’s, and tall shining black boots, a cavalryman’s sword hanging at his hip.

“I think I feel a bit faint,” Skye said numbly.

“Sweetheart, that’s an Elizabeth _Bennet_ costume, not an Elizabeth Swann. You’re not wearing a corset,” Jack pointed out.

“That’s not what’s making me feel faint.”

They were both advancing on her, and really, she didn’t know where to put her eyes. Jack was hitting every one of her uniform kinks dead centre, and Brock… well she was pretty sure that there wasn’t a woman on the base who wouldn’t mind being ravished by THAT pirate. A fair few men, too, she was pretty sure.

“You look delectable,” Jack murmured, running his eyes over the simple, empire-waisted gown she was wearing, her hair gathered up and curled around her face. “Like the kind of lady this captain would have hopelessly lost his heart to.”

“And then the pirate would have swashbuckled in and ravished you… _both_ ,” Brock said with a lascivious leer.

Skye put the back of her wrist to her forehead and mimed fainting dramatically. Jack caught her with a chuckle.

“I think the swashbuckling may have been a little over the top,” he told Brock laughingly.

“Trust me, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Oooh arrrh, me hearties!” Brock drew his cutlass and strode for the door, glancing back over his shoulder and grinning as he caught both Skye and Jack staring at his ass. “You’ll have to catch me first,” he said teasingly before taking off running down the corridor yelling “Raise the mainsail and all aboard, lads!”


	55. Steve/Daisy for fictional-before-real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **June 30 _-_** _"My sexual preference is often." Daisy/Steve for fictional-before-real_

“So,” Daisy said cheerfully, “now that the initial awkwardness is out of the way, let’s talk sexual preference.”

“Wait, what?” Steve gaped up at her from his position flat on his back on the gym mats. Where he really hadn’t expected to land. Apparently Daisy had rather more training than he’d realised.

“Well, I’m assuming that you were planning to squash me like a bug. Oh, I saw the way you looked at me when I asked you to spar. My powers aren’t _all_ that I can do, you know.” She folded her arms and smirked down at him.

“Consider me taught a lesson in overconfidence, but what the hell was that about sexual preference?” Steve said, getting nimbly to his feet.

“Oh, that. I was wondering if I should bother hitting on you or if I’m barking up the wrong tree and all the speculation is correct.”

“ _What_ speculation?” The conversation was getting progressively more surreal, from Steve’s point of view.

“You and Bucky! Or maybe you and Tony. Or you and Sam. Or any combination of the above.”

“No! What? NO!” Steve fell back a step, mouth open. “No, not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added hastily, “but no, I don’t swing that way. Personally.”

“Good to know,” Daisy suddenly darted at him, at the last minute dropping to a crouch and sweeping his legs out from under him. Off-balance in more ways than one, Steve completely failed to block and landed flat on his back again, this time with Daisy sitting astride his chest. She grinned down at him. “Because my sexual preference is _often_.”

Steve was quite certain that he was beet-red all the way to his hairline. Daisy laughed and stood up, turning her head away. “You were right, Nat. He really doesn’t cope well with aggressive flirting, does he?”

Steve shut his eyes in horror. Or possibly relief. It was all a _setup_ ; Daisy wasn’t _really_ aggressively hitting on him.

He opened his eyes to see her smirking down at him, and realised to his dismay that she was looking directly at his crotch, and his all-too-obvious arousal.

“Or maybe you deal with it better than I’d thought,” she murmured, gave him a wink and sauntered off. Just before she reached the door, she turned back and called;

“Of course, you know where my room is if you want to take me up on the offer!”


	56. Steve/Bucky/Darcy for loki-theatre-gurl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 1** \- _“You haven’t had sex in how long?” - Steve/Darcy/Bucky for loki-theatre-gurl_

“Wait,” Darcy looked from one blushing super-soldier to the other. “Wait, so you’re saying… you never _do_ take advantage of all the fangirls throwing themselves at you?”

“No!” Steve said in horror. “That’s… that’s…”

“Just _no_ ,” Bucky shook his head. “You don’t _do_ that. They don’t know us, they just want to carve Captain America or the Winter Soldier as a notch on their bedpost.”

“I’m sure a lot of them don’t,” Darcy said fairly. “I’m sure a lot of them are lovely.”

“How would we tell the difference? How can you get to know somebody if they don’t see Steve or Bucky, but only the public persona?”

“True,” she said meditatively, sitting back and looking at them. “But you do actually _like_ girls, right?”

“Oh yeah,” they both said at the same time.

“And you’re really not a virgin, Steve? With girls, I mean?”

“No,” he blushed, though. “No, I’m not.”

“So when was the last time?”

“Last time…?” Bucky checked.

“That you had sex. With a girl,” Darcy clarified. “Either of you,” when they looked at each other.

“1943,” Steve shrugged after a moment.

“I think it was ‘42, for me…” Bucky said thoughtfully.

Darcy’s jaw dropped. “You haven’t had sex in _how_ long?” she said faintly.

“Well, technically, about… 16 hours,” Bucky said with a smirk. Steve elbowed him.

“She means with a girl, you jerk! And yes, Darcy, while technically it’s been seven decades, it’s really only, um… six years for me. Since I spent most of that time frozen.”

“That is still a lot of time for someone who does like girls, and who gets the opportunities you do!” Darcy pointed out. “I mean, I hear Nat trying to set you up on dates all the time! Both of you!”

Steve and Bucky cast a sideways glance at each other. This time, it was Bucky who elbowed Steve.

“No, you say it,” Steve said firmly.

“No, _you_.”

Darcy had to chuckle, watching them elbow and shove at each other like two kids. Finally Bucky gave in, scowling at Steve before turning back to Darcy.

“Natalia, she means well, but… she’s choosing the wrong girls.”

Darcy perked up. “Well! Nat is a terrible matchmaker, who’d’a thunk it. Hit me with it,” she beckoned.

“What?” Bucky blinked.

“Your type! C’mon, describe your ideal woman. You too, Steve.”

They looked at each other again before Steve shrugged. “We both have the same type. Our dream is to find a girl with enough room in her heart for both of us, who could accept a relationship with both of us.”

“Oh,” Darcy had to fan herself. “Oh, my. That is… that is a really hawt thought, guys. I need a minute.” She had to go and get a glass of ice water. Turning around once she’d drained it, still feeling a bit flushed, she saw Steve and Bucky conversing in intense whispers. They stopped when she sat back down, and the nudging started again.

“All right. Come on. Let’s start with physical type. What do you both look for in a girl?”

“Well,” Bucky admitted, “We both like girls with curves; hips and boobs. Something to grab onto.”

Steve described an hourglass in the air with his hands, smiling a little sheepishly. “An old-fashioned kind of figure.”

That made Darcy smile. “Okay. No waifs. Gotcha.”

“Not too tall. Blue eyes, dark hair. Full lips and soft skin.”

She was starting to feel a little peculiar, the way Bucky was looking at her as he spoke. She was almost glad to look away when Steve joined in.

“Someone who’s incredibly loyal to her friends, smart and sassy. Loves dogs.”

“She’s an amazing scientist wrangler. Even manages to get Tony out of the lab when he’s on a Science! Bender, and convinces Jane to eat actual meals and not just poptarts.” Bucky reached for Darcy’s trembling hand, took it in his. “She’s knitted scarves and hats for every Avenger.”

Steve took her other hand, squeezing it lightly to bring her eyes back to him. “She has no idea how beautiful she truly is,” he said quietly.

Darcy gulped as they both kept looking at her. “You - you’re not messing with me, are you?” she managed to gasp out.

“Never,” Bucky said fervently. “Stevie and me - we’re both head over heels for you, Darce. The idea of you tryin’ to set us up with someone else, that’s crazy. Unless you think that you couldn’t be with both of us, I know it’s a lot to take…”

“It certainly is,” she murmured, barely able to believe this was happening to her. “You certainly are, I mean…” she blushed at the filthy thoughts she really couldn’t keep out of her brain. Ever since Steve had told her they dreamed of finding a girl to share.

“We could take it slow,” Steve offered. “It wouldn’t exactly be a conventional relationship, but we’d work hard to make it work, Darcy, to be what you need…”

“What more could I ask for?” she asked gently, squeezing back on his hand. “Any girl would consider herself lucky to be with either one of you, never mind both. Steve and Bucky, that is, not Captain America and the Winter Soldier.”

“That’s why we’re in love with you, doll,” Bucky told her. “Because you see _Steve and Bucky_ , not the uniforms.”

“Well,” she grinned, “you do look very fine in the uniforms, I must admit, though the way you fill out jeans is a sight to behold. And I confess I’m the one who’s been ordering Steve’s T-shirts in a size too small.”

That made both of them laugh.

“So what do you say, Darcy?” Steve asked. “Shall we give it a try?”

“If I ever turn you down on a proposition like that, just assume I’ve died and bury me, all right?” Darcy grinned back.


	57. Jemma/Rollins for musicisme16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 2** - _“I’m going to show you what real fucking is.” Jemma/Rollins for musicisme16_
> 
> Definitely E rated. You have been warned.

 

Jack was walking quickly as he left the post-mission brief and hurried back towards the accommodation wing. Coulson and May had kept them debriefing for far too long; he just hoped Jemma wasn’t already asleep. Getting back a day early was an unexpected bonus he didn’t intend to waste.

As a couple, they had a small suite of rooms, with a living and kitchen area attached to their bedroom. It wasn’t a generous space, but it did very nicely for them, especially as they were both neat types. As the front door closed behind Jack, he realised to his dismay that all the lights were off.

 _Damn it. She’s asleep_. He sighed regretfully. Well, he’d sleep on the couch. He wasn’t about to disturb Jemma’s sleep; she didn’t get enough of it anyway.

Removing his boots and leaving them by the door, he tiptoed over to the bedroom door, thinking that he’d just look in on his beloved. Halfway there, he froze.

_What. The. Fuck._

That was Jemma’s moan. He’d know it anywhere; it was the sound she always made when he was buried deep inside her, when she was right on the verge of climax. And that was a _man’s_ voice in there, some asshole saying;

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, come for daddy!”

_Daddy! What the hell???_

On the verge of kicking the door off its hinges and breaking the neck of whatever asshole had dared to touch his Jemma, Jack froze as a third voice joined in.

“Ohhhh, yes, daddy, that’s it, give your little girl a real good fucking!”

 _That was… odd_. Slowly, he leaned in close to the door and peered through the inch Jemma had left it ajar, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

Jemma lay on the bed, propped up against pillows, watching the TV mounted on the wall. She was stark naked, fingers playing between her legs.

“Harder, daddy, harder!” the bleached blonde porn star on the screen panted, looking up at the camera and parting her over-plump lips in a deeply unrealistic O face. “Give it to me, give me your big thick cock!”

Jack suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Jemma apparently didn’t even know enough about porn to get _good_ porn.

The camera panned back then and his jaw dropped.

“Jack,” Jemma panted.

Christ, the guy really did look like him. Not as muscled or as tall, Jack assessed, and lacking Jack’s scars, but they could easily have passed for brothers.

Jemma sobbed out his name again, rubbing her fingers faster over her clit. The Jack-double in the porno spanked his partner’s ass, making Jemma gasp. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head tipped back, and Jack lost his shit completely.

Pushing the door open silently, he moved as quietly as he could to the bedside, picked up the remote control and turned it off.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he said softly. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

Jemma’s eyes flew open with shock, her fingers stilling.

Jack smirked down at her.

“Oh my God.”

“Seriously, you missed me that much you hunted down some lookalike porn?” He nudged her hand aside, slid his own fingers into her damp channel. “I think I’m flattered.”

His fingers felt so much better than hers, thicker, longer, _rougher_ ; Jemma moaned as his thumb glanced over her clit.

“Are you really here or am I dreaming?” she whimpered.

“Oh, I’m really here. And I’m going to make sure you’re well satisfied tonight, my girl.” Reaching his other hand to his belt, he unfastened it, pulling it off. “On your knees, baby girl.”

She swallowed a little nervously, glanced from him to the television. “Are you…”

“You should have told me that was something you wanted to try,” he could feel her arousal increasing at the thought, her pussy squeezing on his fingers, juices slicking them. “Now get on your knees.” Sliding his fingers out, he tasted them, watching as Jemma obediently turned over and went to her knees. “Over here by the bedpost, that’s it.” Swiftly, he wound his belt around her wrists and then the post, efficiently securing her just as the blonde in the porno had been bound.

“You’re back early,” Jemma said, turning her head to watch as he peeled off his clothes, tossing them to land on the dresser.

“I am, and what a pleasant sight I found in my bed.” Getting onto the bed beside her, Jack traced his fingers lightly down her spine, making her shudder. “Although it didn’t look like you were getting all that close, by yourself.”

“You’re too good at giving me orgasms, I think I’ve forgotten how to masturbate,” Jemma confessed, making him laugh. “The porn was a last-ditch effort.”

“Poor baby. Getting a little frustrated, were you?” He cupped her buttocks in his big hands, squeezing firmly. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”

She strained back towards him as he teased the tip of his cock lightly around her entrance, sobbing his name with an edge of real need to her voice.

“Please, Jack, I need it, I need you, oh please…”

“I got you, baby,” hands on her hips, he held her steady as he pushed slowly, remorselessly deep inside her, not stopping his thrust until her ass met his groin. “You don’t need no shitty porno to get off. I’m gonna show you what _real_ fucking is.”

With her hands bound, there was nothing Jemma could do but let Jack do as he wished with her, his powerful hands holding her hips still as he thrust into her, again and again with all his might.

It was absolutely the best thing that had ever happened to her. She screamed herself hoarse as the first orgasm hit like a freight train and Jack just kept on going, fucking her through it, hammering into her quivering body until she tipped over again.

“Feeling better yet?” he stilled briefly to growl into her ear. Jemma could only sob his name in response. Jack pressed a kiss to her shoulder and eased back, pulling out of her to free her wrists and lay back, drawing her into his arms. Shaking with reaction, Jemma clutched at him.

“I got you, baby,” Jack whispered, slowly stroking her back. “I got you.”

“Oh Jack, oh Jack,” was all she could whimper out as she came down from that agonising high. He grinned, pressing soft kisses to her brow and forehead.

“Please just promise you won’t ever call me ‘daddy’!”


	58. Darcy/Tony for sassinessisthewaytogo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 2 -** _“Is there a mirror in your pocket, because I look great! Wait, I said that wrong” Darcy/Tony, for sassinessisthewaytogo_

“Holy fucking hell!” The entire Tower shook with the force of the explosion. Darcy instinctively threw herself at the ground, taking Jane down with her. “We’ve been here ten fucking minutes and the place gets attacked? If it’s your boyfriend’s brother again I am going to Tase his ass to kingdom come!”

“Please remain calm. The Tower is not under attack,” JARVIS’s smoothly modulated tones said soothingly.

“Then what the hell was that?” Darcy shouted.

“I’m afraid that was Mr Stark, in the laboratory directly beneath yours.”

“Oh,” Jane said, looked at Darcy. “Oh, shit!”

They both scrambled up and sprinted for the stairs. If the elevator was out of commission, they might be the closest available help…

Stark was lying on the ground in the centre of a circle of suspiciously smoking debris, a small robot puttering around him and intermittently squirting foam over both the debris and its master’s body from the fire extinguisher it was clutching.

“What,” Darcy said, staring around a bit wildly.

Jane had seen the aftermath of Bad Science! too many times to panic. She calmly scooped the fire extinguisher from the anxiously beeping little robot’s claw, squirted some foam onto the debris pile that was smoking the most ominously, and bent over to check on Tony.

“I think he needs mouth-to-mouth, Darcy,” she glanced mischievously over her shoulder, making Darcy let out a small sigh of relief. If Jane was teasing her about her gigantic crush on the billionaire, he probably wasn’t dead.

Probably. Though knowing Jane, it wouldn’t hurt to check. Picking her way carefully across the smouldering rubble of what had evidently once been a very expensive lab, Darcy crouched down by Tony and put her fingers to his throat to feel for a pulse.

Dark brown eyes snapped open. They were distinctly unfocused, though, as Tony peered up at her.

“Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great!” he said, in what Darcy suspected was meant to be a flirtatious tone. “Wait,” he frowned. “I said that wrong. Ow, my head…”

“Don’t move,” Darcy said firmly, intercepting the hand he tried to lift to his head. “The lab exploded, and I suspect you’re concussed.”

“There wouldn’t be a first time for everything!” Tony said gaily.

“You’re definitely mixing your metaphors.” She had to bite down on her lips to keep from laughing aloud. “Please lie still, Mr Stark. Help is on the way.”

“You’re pretty. I’m keeping you,” he decided. “We’ll get married and have some adorable children, and then even if I’m as bad a father as my dad was, at least they’ll have you and each other.”

Darcy had to keep biting on her lip, but this time it was to keep the tears down. “I think you’re being a bit premature,” she said finally. “You just met me.”

Tony smiled. “Love at first sight. Runs in the family. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Darcy,” she admitted. “Darcy Lewis. I’m Dr. Jane Foster’s assistant.”

“Well, now you’re my girlfriend. Darcy Stark has a nice ring to it. Where would you like to get married?”

His voice was sounding stronger and steadier by the minute, but he was still holding quite tightly onto her hand. Darcy gave in to the impulse to run her fingers lightly over his dust-filled dark hair. “On the beach in Hawaii,” she decided to humour him, hoping he wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow.

_Please God, don’t let him remember any of this tomorrow..._


	59. Darcy/Thranduil for aoisakai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 3 -** _“You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” Thranduil/Darcy Lewis for aoisakai_
> 
> _(Yes, Thranduil from LoTR. I know I don’t normally write LoTR characters, but for aoisakai, I made a special exception - and recruited help with Thranduil’s characterisation from Little_Red, without whom this would NOT have been possible)_

 

Asgard was even more impressively shiny than Darcy expected. And not only the place, the _people_. She’d already met the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, of course, but _everyone_ in Asgard seemed to be impressive physical specimens.

Although _that_ guy was in a whole class of his own. Her head swivelled to watch the tall blond as he walked past her through the long hallway, and she noticed something startling.

“Thor,” she tugged at his arm. “Thor, that dude has pointy ears!”

Thor glanced in the direction of her pointing finger and let loose with one of his hearty laughs. “Darcy, ‘that dude’ is King Thranduil, a visiting dignitary from Alfheim.”

“Wait,” her eyes popped. “Alfheim - _elves_?”

“Yes, I believe Midgardians called them such, when the Alfheimr walked your world.”

“Fuuuuck,” Darcy whispered under her breath, awed. “Janey, elves! Elves are REAL!”

Jane was far too busy playing with some bit of Asgardian technology she’d scooped up from a table when nobody was looking, though, and Darcy was left to stare in amazement at the blond elf, who’d stopped at the end of the hallway to speak to someone. He really was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen, all long clean limbs and smooth shiny hair. As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head and looked directly at her.

Embarrassed to have been caught staring, Darcy turned hastily away, blushing a little, unaware that Thranduil’s eyes slid over her curves with more than a passing interest.

“Thranduil?” Loki, still masquerading as Odin, said impatiently as the Alfheimr king’s attention drifted.

“Your pardon, All-Father,” but Thranduil was still looking down the hallway. “It has been long since humans walked the halls of Asgard.”

Loki ground his teeth together. “Yes,” he said tightly. “Yes, Prince Thor’s beloved is Midgardian. She is visiting here at the moment, along with her lady companion.”

“Ah,” Thranduil nodded in understanding, dragging his attention away from the woman’s shapely behind with some effort. He did not care for this weakness in himself, for the more curvaceous forms of human women, but it should be easy enough to withstand temptation if there were only two of them on Asgard and one was spoken for!

Thranduil had to restrain the urge to bang his head hard against the carved timber back of his chair when he saw who his partner at the dinner table was. Glancing along the table, he met Odin’s smirk and silently fumed. Odin disliked mortals even more than Thranduil; no doubt the places at the table had been arranged to keep them as far from the All-Father as possible. In no way could seating the maiden beside a king be considered insulting to Thor, though _Thranduil_ might have been insulted. If he hadn’t known very well that it was merely Odin’s foul sense of humour asserting itself.

He couldn’t even rely on any assistance in keeping the human in conversation, since Volstagg was seated on her other side, and Thranduil knew that the Asgardian would pay attention to nothing but his food. With a small, resigned sigh, Thranduil bent his head in polite acknowledgement as the Midgardian woman seated herself and stared around with wide, incredulous blue eyes.

“Oh!” she looked directly at him then, started and blushed. It was a becoming look, Thranduil realised unwillingly; almost as becoming as the silken saffron-coloured gown which certainly made the most of her figure. From the vantage of his height, he could take in the spectacular view of her cleavage as well as her face.

“How do you do? I’m Darcy Lewis,” she said, in tones that were obviously intended to be polite.

_She does not know that she must wait for me to speak first, since I am of higher rank_ , Thranduil thought contemptuously; but the voice of his conscience, a voice which sounded suspiciously like that of his son, pointed out dryly that Darcy Lewis had no way to know of his rank. He wasn’t wearing his crown, not here in the halls of Asgard.

“Thranduil of Mirkwood and Alfheim, Lady Darcy,” he responded in cool tones.

“You mean _King_ Thranduil, don’t you, Your Majesty?” she said with a pert little smile. “Or is this some attempt to go incognito?”

_So she_ does _know who I am_ , he thought. Aloud he said “In the halls of Asgard, my title means little, Lady Darcy.”

“Well, I have no title at all, so please, call me Darcy.” She offered a rather charming little smile. Amused despite wanting to dislike her - this would be a lot easier if she had a face like a horse and the voice of a crow - Thranduil returned the smile.

“As you please. And are you enjoying your visit to Asgard, Darcy?” Politely, he lifted the flagon of wine in front of him, tilted it invitingly towards Darcy’s cup.

“Thank you,” she nodded for him to pour. “Yes, I am. Jane told me how incredibly beautiful it is, but I don’t think anything could have prepared me. There is a feeling of incredible age, and yet everything looks so new and shining. It’s a curious dichotomy, such that I can’t help but wonder if it is shared by other long-lived, highly advanced races. Is Alfheim similar, Your Majesty?”

Thranduil blinked, not at all prepared for the insightful, intriguing response she had delivered to his merely rhetorical question. _Humans have evolved much since last I encountered some_ , he thought privately, refilling his own cup.

“Similar and yet different,” he replied in response to her question. “My people live in a closer communion with Nature than the Æsir.”

“I have to ask,” she took a sip of the wine, smiling as she found that she liked the taste, “are Midgardian stories of elves anything like the reality? Mm, that’s really nice,” she took another, longer sip.

“I do not know,” Thranduil said a little stiffly. “It has been many centuries since last I spoke with one of your kind.” He took a long drink of the wine to mask his discomfort. At least Asgardian wine was tolerable, unlike the ghastly swill produced on Midgard. He hoped Darcy Lewis appreciated the difference.

“Because there’s a Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, in this really awesome book by an incredibly famous author in our world, John Ronald Reuel Tolkein…”

Thranduil almost choked on his wine, failing to suppress a snarl. Volstagg, on Darcy’s other side, started chortling. “Oh yes, tell her about Tolkein, Thranduil!”

Darcy looked from Thranduil to Volstagg with a grin beginning on her face. “This is going to be good. I can just tell.” Having another slug of the wine, she nudged Thranduil, who had gone very stiff, in the ribs. “Go on, Thrandy. Fill me in.”

He was too angered even by the mention of Tolkein’s name to notice what she had called him. “Tolkein was _not_ a writer of your world. He was Alfheimr, banished for… for…” this was _so_ embarrassing. Especially with Darcy’s bright-eyed gaze bent on him inquiringly. “He was a court bard, banished for writing and singing mocking tales.”

“About you,” she guessed with a chuckle.

“Yes, about me! And in his vengeance he mocked me further yet, by bastardising some of our greatest legends into stories for the amusement of the primitive humans we sent him to live among!”

Darcy couldn’t help it. She collapsed into laughter.

Thranduil’s frown grew more thunderous. Every time Darcy looked at him, her giggles resurged, no matter how hard she tried to throttle them back.

Eventually, Thranduil found a small smile growing on his own face.

“Legolas told me that it was my own fault for being a ‘complete pompous prig’, as he put it,” he admitted. “It is possible that my son may have had a point.”

“Oh, dear,” Darcy had to wipe at her streaming eyes. “Oh, that is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Tolkein’s entire body of work is _bad fanfiction_?”

Thranduil’s rueful grin confirmed it. She grabbed her cup of wine and swigged another mouthful down to avoid another fit of the giggles. Thranduil poured her some more, which was probably a really terrible idea because she was already feeling very warm and fuzzy. And giggly, but then he’d just told her something utterly and totally hilarious. Even if he was, apparently, the butt of the joke.

“I think you should have some more of that too,” Darcy said, “quite a lot of it, actually, and then you might unbend a bit and I can ask you if Sauron really was a complete and utter bastard. And if your son Legolas is as hot as you, or even as hot as Orlando Bloom.”

Laughing despite himself, Thranduil took a long drink from his own cup. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d already had half a flagon;  perhaps that was the reason he was finding her rather amusing. Asgardian wine did have a kick to it that the vintages produced on Alfheim lacked. That the little mortal had drunk a whole cup and only succumbed to a giggle fit was quite remarkable.

“You are so mean,” he said confidingly to her when she nudged him again. “I’m okay with that,” he discovered, rather to his surprise. “I like you, Darcy Lewis of Midgard. You must tell me who this Orlando Bloom is, and why you think Legolas might resemble him.”

“I’m gonna get Heimdall to send me back tomorrow to pick up my DVDs,” she said. “And a player - and a TV - no, on second thoughts, I’ll just grab a StarkPad, somehow I don’t think the electricity supplies are going to be compatible.” Grinning up at Thranduil, she said “Because you REALLY need a Hobbit marathon, Thrandy.”

“After that, you shall come with me to visit Alfheim,” he said magnanimously, “and you shall judge for yourself its beauty.” Though he had already decided that he had no intention of introducing her to Legolas.

This little mortal, Thranduil would keep for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having recruited Little_Red into helping me write this, I then managed to convince her that she'd love to continue it into its own story. Consequently, you'll shortly see a new story on Ao3 co-authored by us both appear. There is no second part yet, but you will be able to follow the continuing adventures of Darcy and Thranduil there :D


	60. DaisyBones for stayingsilver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 5** - _“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.” DaisyBones, for stayingsilver_
> 
> _Folks seem to like this prompt for Brock Rumlow. This is the third time I’ve been asked for this prompt for a pairing including him :D_
> 
> _Featuring a Rumlow who was enhanced by Hydra when working as an ‘inside man’ for Fury. Fury sends him back to Coulson to join the Secret Warriors who are, of course, under Daisy’s command._

“You’re kidding me,” Rumlow said in disbelief as Daisy walked into the room. “ _This_ is the infamous Quake?”

“ _Daisy Johnson_ ,” Coulson said in slightly reproving tones, “this is Brock Rumlow, AKA…”

“Crossbones, AKA Fury’s hit man,” Daisy said coolly. “Hmm,” she looked him up and down. “You’re not as tall as I’d have expected.”

“Well, you’re about fifteen years younger than _I’d_ expected,” Rumlow sniped back.

Coulson looked from one to the other of them, rolled his eyes and said “Would you two mind holding your pissing contest somewhere other than my office?”

“ _My_ office is this way,” Daisy said snidely. Rumlow shot a fulminating look at Coulson over his shoulder as he followed her out. Coulson looked away and busied himself with the paperwork on his desk.

“So let’s get this straight,” Daisy immediately walked around behind her desk, but didn’t sit down, instead stood up and placed her hands on its surface, leaning forward and making hard eye contact with Rumlow, who promptly turned his back on her to close the door and then dropped to sit in the chair in front of her desk, putting his feet up on its surface and examining his fingernails thoughtfully. Daisy gaped for a moment before continuing.

“I don’t know what shit you pulled to piss off ex-Director Fury so badly he sent you to me, but let me be absolutely clear. The Secret Warriors is _my_ team and you’ll follow _my_ orders.”

Rumlow looked up at her and smirked, a slow twist of his lips, golden-brown eyes gleaming, and Daisy was suddenly struck with a sudden bolt of sexual awareness.

_Oh, no, he’s really, SERIOUSLY hot…_

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked,” he drawled, eyes never leaving hers. “Ma’am.”

He didn’t have a superpower. She’d read his file, thoroughly. He’d received Hydra’s bastardised version of the super-soldier serum and it had made him stronger and faster than any normal man, but he had no extra-human capabilities like the Inhumans.

So he couldn’t possibly be putting the thoughts into her mind that she couldn’t seem to push away, the images of Brock Rumlow following her orders to use his strong hands, his powerful upper body, his rough stubble, his tongue, on every sensitive inch of her body…

Rumlow’s smirk disappeared, and he dropped his feet down from her desk and leaned forward, never taking his eyes from hers.

“That could work quite well, actually. I could probably get used to taking all sorts of orders from you in bed. Wouldn’t hesitate in the field, then, taking orders from a slip of a girl.”

Daisy’s mouth felt dry. She licked at her lips, trying to get some moisture into her mouth, trying to speak. “You ever hesitate at taking my orders in the field, I’ll quake you into next week.”

“Yeah,” Rumlow didn’t seem at all fazed by the threat, just gave her that lazy smirk again as he rose to his feet to look her in the eye. “I’ve heard all about your skill with _vibrations_. Makes me wonder if you can do _subtle_ things as well as great big flashy ones.”

“Is everything you say an innuendo?” she had to laugh.

“Only when I’m talking to a girl as stunning as you,” he lifted one muscled shoulder in a half-shrug, grinning back. “Is any of it working?”

“Maybe,” Daisy gave him a sly smile, got one in return as she thought; _This might be the biggest mistake of my life, but I think I’m going to have a helluva lot of fun making it..._


	61. Matt Murdock/Daisy Johnson, for shebber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 5** - _“We both keep running into each other, wait have we met?" Matt/Daisy, for shebber_
> 
> Also cross-posted to the Crackship Armada Part 2, since it turned into a Soulmates fic :)

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Shorts%20Covers%202/DevilQuake_zpsxsjmalkj.jpg.html)

She wasn’t sure what it was that had drawn her back to New York, to Hell’s Kitchen, until she found herself standing in front of St. Joseph's.

St. Agnes’ orphanage wasn’t a place she wanted to revisit, ever, but the church… while she’d never fully bought into its teachings, St. Joseph’s had been a sanctuary for her in more ways than one. Daisy took a hesitant step forward, intending to go inside, when she saw two men come out and walk down the steps. One of them was using a white cane to guide his footing; there was something oddly familiar about him, though she didn’t think she’d ever seen him before. The other was almost as dear to her as Phil Coulson had become, and she forgot all about the blind man in the rush of emotion that overwhelmed her.

“Father Lantom?” she said hesitantly, when he turned back in her direction, and he stared at her for a moment before recognition brightened his eyes.

“Mary Sue!”

She didn’t even care about the hated name, just ran into his open arms and enjoyed the warm embrace. “It’s so good to see you, Father!”

“Come inside, my child. I’ll put the kettle on and make tea.”

Daisy didn’t notice that the blind man had stopped walking away, his head turned back towards them.

“I know that voice,” Matt murmured quietly to himself, wracking his memory. It had been a long time since he’d heard it, and it had been higher then, more girlish. He almost took a step back, but he could hear Father Lantom and the girl he’d called Mary Sue talking in intimately friendly tones, and he didn’t want to interrupt the reunion.

 _Mary Sue Poots_ , he remembered suddenly, as he turned and started walking home. A quiet little thing a few years his junior, eyes too big for her face - he’d touched her once, to explore her delicate features. She’d been one of the few people at St. Agnes’ that he’d actually been close to, despite the age gap. For a moment he thought about turning back, going to see her; but if she was back in New York - he’d already proven that his friends got hurt just for being his friends. Sighing, Matt walked onwards, alone.

It was on a roof late that night when he heard the voice again, and he was immediately sprinting over the rooftops, desperate to get to her, because the man she was speaking to had a voice Matt knew. He was linked to a nasty human trafficking ring Matt had been working on taking down for a while.

“So you’ve been away from Hell’s Kitchen a while, huh?” the man said.

“Not long enough,” Daisy said cynically, “to lose the skill of recognising sleazebags when I see them.”

“Hey, that ain’t a nice thing to say!”

“You’re not a nice person.”

He tried to grab her and Daisy blocked the move, swept his legs out from under him and put a foot on his throat. Before she could even say anything, though, a dark red shadow dropped down beside her, pushed her aside and grabbed the asshole up, shaking him hard, pinning him against a wall.

“You stay the fuck away from her,” a deep voice growled. “She’s under my protection.”

She didn’t feel like being under anyone’s protection, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she took to her heels.

It was only once she got two full blocks away that Daisy realised that the shadow in red had to be the man the press called the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. She’d read plenty about him, even checked out the files SHIELD had on him one time, but she hadn’t expected to encounter him; not when she only planned to be here a short time, and she had no intention of using her powers at all.

 _Why on earth would he put her under his protection, though?_ That made no sense at all. Unless SHIELD had come looking here already, wondering if she’d go back to St. Agnes, somehow made contact with him and asked him to look out for her…

She abruptly reversed course. If that was the case, she needed to know _now_. She’d planned to go see Father Lantom again tomorrow, but she didn’t want to bring SHIELD down on him.

Both Daredevil and the sleazebag were gone when she got back to the spot where she’d left them. Looking around and muttering under her breath, she scowled when she heard angry voices approaching the mouth of the dead-end alley.

_Vertical exit it is…_

Matt barely suppressed an outright scream of shock when the girl _flew_ up onto the roof and damn near landed on top of him.

 _OK, that I_ really _didn’t expect…_

“Seems we both keep running into each other today,” he said.

She turned to him, hands up and ready, probably to send him flying off the roof. “Have we met?” she asked, more than a thread of curiosity in her voice.

“Before today? Yes, but you were only about twelve the last time, I think. Mary Sue Poots.”

He detected her grimace. “I don’t go by that name anymore.”

“That’s good, because I don’t think it suits you.” He smiled a little bit. “It’s not a very superheroic kind of name.”

Matt sensed her smile, heard the laugh in her voice as she said “Maybe I should start using it again, actually. Nobody would ever dream that Mary Sue Poots could possibly be Quake.”

She’d dropped her hands, no longer stood in a defensive stance.

“Just like nobody thinks the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen could possibly be blind,” he offered in return, and heard her sharply indrawn breath as she put the clues together.

“You’re Matthew Murdock!”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance again… Quake.” He offered his hand, and after a moment, she took it, shook it with a firm, steady grip.

“You can call me Daisy.” She hesitated only a moment longer before saying “It's my real name, but… I'm kinda incognito right now.”

“Curiously, I'm not in the least surprised.” He grinned at her. “Need a place to lay low?”

“That would be pretty useful,” she admitted. “But… I heard you became a lawyer.”

“And you're worried I'll turn you in? I also became a vigilante,” Matt gestured down at his outfit. “As long as I don't find you misusing those powers, we're all good.”

“Thanks, then,” she said with a nod, and, at his gesture, fell into step with him across the rooftop. “Can I ask you an odd question?”

“How do I do this when I'm blind?”

“... You're actually not the first man I've met who saw with senses other than his eyes,” Daisy said, remembering Gordon. “No, that wasn't the odd question. About eighteen months ago, I… underwent a - a _change_ , and afterwards, there was a soulmark on my back.”

Matt froze mid-stride. “About eighteen months ago, I got a burning sensation on my arm,” he said. “When I got Fo-a friend, to look, he told me it was a soulmark that said ‘Have we met?’ I assumed I wouldn't meet my soulmate for a good many years. If I survive that long.”

“Well,” she shrugged a little, realised he might not be able to sense that and reached tentatively for his hand instead. “I’m sorry that I’m not going to be the nubile eighteen-year-old you’ll meet when you’re nearly fifty.”

That made Matt snort with laughter. “I’m glad you’re not. Really.”

“Maybe we can work on making it to fifty, together?” Daisy suggested tentatively. “It strikes me that we could be a pretty good team.”

“Quake and the Devil?”

“Sounds kind of like the title of a Black Sabbath track,” Daisy answered with a laugh, “but I do like the sound of it.”

“Sounds like it could be our song,” Matt smiled, his fingers tightening around hers as he led her onwards across the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen.


	62. Fitz/Nat for probablyunnecessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 5** \- _“Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.” Fitz/Nat for probablyunnecessary_

Natasha was absolutely, definitely, one hundred per cent going to kill someone. Who, she hadn’t decided just yet, but it would probably be the next guy who decided that he really wanted to add the infamous Black Widow to the notches on his bedpost and tried to hit on her.

Of course she was capable of deflecting the idiots, but it was getting really boring when she was trying to have actual intelligent conversations with people she respected, and the next moment some bonehead was using some crappy line about how her dress would look good on his bedroom floor.

She should have brought a date. For a moment she considered going and wrapping herself around Steve, but the last time she’d done that he’d turned beet red, fled the party and not come back.

Looking around, her eye lit on Fitz, who was standing by himself near the bar, an almost-full glass in his hand. He looked a little bit lost and alone.

Natasha saw one of the egocentric twits who’d tried to hit on her earlier sneer at Fitz just then and make a laughing comment behind his hand to a friend. She could read his lips, though, understood the slur, and saw red. How dare these stupid fools denigrate a brilliant man like Leo Fitz? He was worth ten of them, any day of the week.

A smile curved her lips, and she sashayed across the room to Fitz, aware that there were plenty of eyes following her. Arriving at his side, she plucked the glass from his hand, took a sip from it, and leaned in close, putting her free hand to the back of his neck.

Fitz absolutely gaped at her. Natasha smiled at him.

“Can I borrow a kiss, darling? I promise I’ll give it back,” she purred.

“ _What?_ ”

“Play along,” she said softly, her lips not even moving. “I’m getting sick of having to deflect idiots trying to make a move on me. You don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Or a boyfriend…”

“No!” Fitz gasped, still quite unable to believe what was happening to him. “No-one…no…”

“Good, then I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes.” He was only about an inch taller than her in her spike heels, so she only had to exert light pressure to the back of his neck to pull his mouth down to hers.

She really hadn’t expected him to kiss _that_ well. A surprisingly strong arm went around her waist after a moment, drawing her tentatively closer. Enjoying the kiss, Natasha allowed herself to be drawn in, and then pressed closer, pushing her breasts against Fitz’s chest. He let out a startled noise against her lips, and she pulled back, smiling at him.

“There. Was that really so terrible?”

In her peripheral vision she could see several stunned faces. Which she found slightly offensive on Fitz’s behalf. Handing the glass in her hand off to the nearest stunned idiot, she wound _both_ arms around Fitz’s neck this time.

“Time for me to give you that kiss back I promised,” she smirked, before plastering her lips to his again.


	63. Tony/Darcy for just-be-you-darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Fans of[this Tony/Darcy ficlet](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F6561112%2Fchapters%2F16729300&t=NTNhZTc5MmYyMjhlOGY0ZjY2NGM1ZDhiOGFhMTRkOTQwZWMyZmJkMCwyN2VDR3hWMQ%3D%3D) I wrote a few days ago will undoubtedly be delighted to hear that [@just-be-you-darling](https://tmblr.co/mldHtm0UqppHEOVmx9NWeiw) chose to ask for a continuation for her birthday fic :) _ **
> 
> **July 5** \- _"What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again" Tony/Darcy for just-be-you-darling_

_The following morning_

“Rise and shine, sweetheart, we’ve got a wedding to organise!”

“Aaargh!” Darcy shot upright out of her nicely piled mound of bedcovers and found herself nose to nose with a terrifyingly bright-eyed Tony Stark. “What, what? Wait, how did you get in here?”

He looked mildly offended. “It _is_ my Tower. And you’re my fiancée. Now, about that wedding. Did you mean Oahu, or the Big Island, or one of the smaller ones? Because Larry Ellison is a buddy and since he owns 98% of Lānaʻi, we can have the wedding there, close the island to anyone we don’t want to see…”

Darcy clutched at her head. “Oh, crap. You remember.”

“Yes! And since I can’t Science! until JARVIS and his ‘bots have fixed my lab up, I thought I’d do some research. Now, I know that your parents are both alive but separated and remarried, are they on civil terms with each other, do you get on with the step-parents and do you want them all at the wedding…”

“Tony!” she grabbed at his hands. “Tony, _stop_.”

“What?” he gave her a bright smile and she realised he was at least in part playing a prank on her. He’d clearly done the research on her parents, though.

“I think we’d better slow down, don’t you? Considering that you’re probably still concussed and you only met me yesterday.” She grinned at him, showing him that she didn’t mind the joke too much.

“Damn,” he pretended to be disappointed. “I was hoping to railroad you through the wedding before you had a chance to reconsider.”

Darcy had to laugh. “You’re a troll.”

“Sometimes,” Tony allowed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Which had the unfortunate side-effect of drawing Darcy’s attention to his facial hair, that carefully groomed facial hair, which featured in far too many of her spank bank fantasies. She lost her train of thought completely and just stared at him, lips slightly parted.

“I am, however, a troll who does his research. And your boss is _very_ bad at keeping secrets.”

“Secrets,” Darcy said dumbly.

“Like the one about your monster-sized crush on me.”

Grabbing the duvet, Darcy promptly pulled it over her head and attempted to smother herself out of sheer humiliation.

“Now, now, none of that!” Tony grabbed the edge of the duvet and started wrestling her for it. They ended up rolling around on the bed giggling like kids. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural to have a crush on me,” Tony panted. “Even Cap has one, though he won’t admit it.”

“Such modesty!” Darcy giggled in response.

“So much to be modest about. Look, you’re gorgeous, Darcy,” Tony finally succeeded in pinning her down, lying half on top of her with his hands on her wrists, which Darcy very sternly told herself that she should absolutely NOT be finding as hot as she was. “I checked you out and you’re everything Dr Foster says you are, and that is quite a lot, believe me. Loyal, hard-working, smart, kind. The good taste to have an outsize crush on me.”

He was speaking seriously, his dark brown eyes intent on hers. Sensing that he was saying something important, Darcy stopped wriggling to escape and listened.

“I don’t get to meet many girls,” Tony said. That made Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up, and she laughed disbelievingly. “No, please listen. I don’t get to meet many girls who I know I have a chance at getting to know _properly_. I get hit on all the time but 99% of them are in it for the money and the fame, and it’s too hard for me to tell who the other 1% of them are.”

“How do you know I’m in the 1%?” Darcy had to ask. “I mean, I didn’t know you and I had a gigantic crush anyway…”

“Yes, but everything I’ve found out about you in the last few hours, everything Dr Foster and Thor and your childhood best friend from school told me…”

“Oh God, you talked to Kevin?”

“... tells me that you _are_ in that 1%. And since you are also really beautiful and I’m shallow enough for that to matter, I would definitely like to get to know you better and see if you could maybe fall in love with the _real_ Tony Stark.”

There was no possible way on earth that Darcy could say no to that suggestion. She smiled up at him.

“I think I’d like to see if I could, too.”

“Excellent!” Tony said happily. His gaze fastened on her lips. “You know, we should kiss. Just to see if we’re compatible like that.”

Darcy licked her lips. “I could go for that.”

“Good.” He let her set the pace, though. Which led to more rolling around on the bed, but with a lot less giggling and a lot more gasping and moaning, especially when Tony discovered the incredibly sensitive spot in the hollow of Darcy’s collarbone.

“What a nice little sound,” he murmured happily. “I think I’ll bite _there_ again.”

 


	64. Maria/Remy for stereden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 7** - _“You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” Maria/Remy for stereden_
> 
>  
> 
> _Occurs somewhen in the[La Belle Dame Sans Merci](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4322178/chapters/12194171) ‘verse._

 

“Oh, _ma chère_ ,” Remy sighed, as Maria stumbled walking in through her own front door. “Sometimes I think you put yourself into this state just to vex me.”

She blinked at him, trying to get her overtired eyes to focus. “Not everything is about you, LeBeau,” she snapped crossly.

“No, this is about you and your own ridiculous inability to admit that sometimes, things get out of hand. Delegate, Maria. _Delegate_.” He took her hand and led her to the couch, pressing her to sit down. Kneeling at her feet, he took one in his hand, eased off the high-heeled shoe she was wearing and set it aside.

“Someone has to convince Congress to keep the money coming,” Maria mumbled. “Fury just walks in and _demands_.”

“This is why it’s so much easier being a mercenary,” Remy said with a grin. “You have to convince your clients to let you do your job. _My_ clients have to convince me to _accept_ their job.”

“Ugh,” she muttered, as he removed the other shoe and sat up on the couch, lifting her legs into his lap.

“I get paid more than you, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Maria said sulkily, but she didn’t complain when he handed her a glass of _very_ nice wine. “I don’t invite you around here to point out the flaws in my chosen career path.”

“ _Non, je sais_ ,” he said, with a knowing chuckle. “But I think, perhaps, you are too exhausted to carry through on the plans you might have had for the evening, _oui_?”

She’d taken a sip of the wine, but the glass was tilting in her hand now, her head drooping forward.  He reached out, took the glass from her hand.

“You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know,” Remy said softly, feeling an unfamiliar rush of tenderness. Maria was so strong, so resilient; he had to wonder if anyone but him had _ever_ seen her like this.

“Not cute,” she mumbled drowsily as he set the glass down on the coffee table and stood up, lifting her easily into his arms.

“I know. You are terrifying and everyone at SHIELD lives in fear of your displeasure. Grrr,” he said mockingly, carrying her to the bed.

She was already asleep as he laid her down. Remy shook his head fondly.

“Ah, _petite,_ what am I to do with you?”

He’d start by switching off her phone…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maria blinked awake feeling unbelievably rested. She instinctively put out a hand for her phone, frowned when it wasn’t on the nightstand.

 _How did I get into bed?_ Everything from the night before was fuzzy in her mind. Pushing herself to sit up, she looked around; the bed was empty except for herself, of course. Remy always left before dawn.

Except, apparently, not today, because he pushed the bedroom door open right at that moment and came in, a tray carried in his hands. Maria gaped at him in astonishment.

“ _Bonjour, ma chère,_ ah, you look much refreshed,” he smiled at her and came around to set the tray down on her legs. She stared down at freshly squeezed orange juice, perfectly browned toast and scrambled eggs.

“What the…”

“Now, you need to eat. Get your energy back,” Remy said implacably, picking up a triangle of toast and putting it to her lips. Too startled to argue, she took a bite and chewed.

“Why…” she still didn’t manage to get a full question out before he shoved a forkful of egg at her, but this time he deigned to answer her while she ate.

“Well, you did booty call me and then fall asleep. I’m just hanging around to make sure I actually get the promised action.” His smile, and the way he gently pressed the fork into her hand, encouraging her to eat, gave the lie to his words, though. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, Maria.”

“... maybe,” she allowed grudgingly, picking up the juice and taking a sip.

“You have good people working for you. Trust them to do their jobs. Your leaning over their shoulders and second-guessing their every move isn’t helping. Micro-managing isn’t the most efficient way to do your job.”

“All right, you’ve made your point, now stop nagging before I dump this juice over your overly-pretty head,” Maria grumped at him.

Remy laughed, reclined gracefully on the bed beside her. “Whatever you say, _ma chère_.”

He looked so good lying there, wearing nothing but one of her towels wrapped around his waist, that she forgot to eat for a moment. At least until Remy grinned at her.

“Save that thought, _ma chère_. At least until after you’ve finished your breakfast!”


	65. Steve/Daisy for scrumptiouslygloriousstudentfan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 9** \- _"I'm not going to stop leaving marks until everyone knows you're mine" Steve/Daisy for scrumptiouslygloriousstudentfan_

He’d really thought that he wouldn’t have a problem with it. Daisy laughed it off when _he_ got ‘objectified’ as she called it - said that she couldn’t really blame other women for lusting after him when she did it just as much. Besides, she knew how much it embarrassed him, how much he hated it when women looked at him as just a hot piece of ass. It was part of why he was so damned passionate about women’s rights. _Nobody_ should have to be treated that way.

But if the guy interviewing Daisy didn’t take his eyes off her breasts and start looking at her face when she talked, Steve was going to storm right over there and feed him his teeth.

“Easy, Cap,” Sam said quietly in passing. “Daisy’s perfectly capable of kicking the sexist pig’s ass herself.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, but he made himself turn away. He’d do Daisy no favours barging in on one of her first battle-aftermath interviews, not when she’d been the actual hero of the day. He’d look like an attention-stealing prick at the very least.

Back at base, after they’d showered and changed and Steve was sitting on his couch staring into space, Daisy came in and seated herself in his lap, arms winding around his neck. One look at her and he realised she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. A dark brow quirked at him and he caved, as always.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“All you have to do is let it be known that Captain America and Quake are dating, and every guy will be too scared to even look at me sideways,” she pointed out devastatingly

“I don’t want you to have to deal with all the ‘baggage of being Captain America’s girlfriend’,” he told her. “You should see the hate mail Pepper gets…”

“I promise, I’m not concerned with all the fangirl haters I’ll get.” She chuckled quietly. “I think you know I can take care of myself. So if you can take the hate from my legion of male - _and_ female - fans _you’ll_ get, I think I’ll take my chances.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You really - you really want to go public?”

“I wasn’t against it in the first place. Not once I’d realised you felt about me the same way I do about you.” She ran her fingers through his thick blond hair, gave him a slow, sultry smile. “So what do you say? Can I be obvious?”

He had to smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe some lipstick marks, next time you have to go in front of camera. Perhaps a nice dark hickey or two somewhere blindingly obvious. Here, maybe,” she tapped lightly on his throat, just above his Adam’s apple.

Steve swallowed convulsively.

“Do you like that idea?” Daisy’s eyes half-lidded, her smile even more sensual than before. “Like the idea of me putting marks on you?”

“They’d fade,” he gasped out as she leaned in and began to suckle on his throat. “Pretty quickly. Ahhh!”

Leaning back, Daisy surveyed with satisfaction the black bruise she’d just made. Smiling, she grabbed the front of his T-shirt in her hands and rent it in half, all the way down to his waist. “I’ll just have to make more then, won’t I? I can put them all over you. Next time you get your uniform half-ripped or burned off during a fight, I want to make sure the cameras see that fighting’s not the only way you get marked up.” Deliberately, she raked her nails hard down across his perfect, washboard abs.

Steve arched up with a desperate cry, but she grabbed his hands as he reached for her, lifted them up above his head. “Fingers laced together. That’s it. Keep them there.”

He sobbed with need as she slid down across him, kissing and nibbling, pulling lightly on his knees until he shifted his hips forward, to the edge of the couch. Deft fingers unfastened his belt and his pants, slipped his zipper down, and in a few moments more he was naked but for the remnants of his shirt, still caught around his arms and shoulders.

Daisy paused to admire the very impressive erection Steve was already sporting; mischievously she breathed warm air over it, watched it jerk as Steve groaned loudly.

“Daisy!” he gasped out her name as she repeated the action.

“You just keep your hands there,” she nuzzled over his hip gently, working downwards - and bit down, hard, on the inside of his thigh.

Steve yelled as her sharp teeth sank into the meat of his leg, but his cock jolted too, and Daisy’s lips curled in a smile even as she tightened her jaws.

Steve whimpered, head falling back against the back of the couch. Daisy let go, her tongue licking slowly over the perfect imprint of her teeth in his thigh, her fingernails tracing up over his hipbones as she selected the next spot for a mark.

“I’m not going to stop leaving marks,” she kissed the tender skin on the inside of his hipbone, deciding that a hickey would look quite delightful just there, “until everyone knows you’re _mine_.”

He sobbed with need as she slowly sucked a deep purple bruise into his skin. By the time she’d worked her way back up his chest and was sitting on his lap, biting on his collarbone, he was near-delirious with need, but he didn’t unlace his fingers from on top of his head until she told him to.

After that, though, it was only a matter of seconds before she found every stitch of her own clothing ripped off and Steve plunging deep inside her, possessing her just as she had just put her stamp upon him.

 _Although with less bruises,_ Daisy mused as she lay sated and breathing fast on Steve’s chest afterwards. Some of the lighter ones she’d given him were already fading, healing ridiculously fast as he always did. She touched her finger to a spectacularly purple hickey on his neck that was already beginning to turn green around the edges, and smiled to herself. Well. She could always have fun giving him another one tomorrow.

 


	66. Daisy/Bucky, for luna-orlha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**July 12 -** “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” Skye/Bucky, for luna-orlha_

She was well and truly sick of the way other women looked at him. He was _hers_ , her beloved; she was the one who’d been there for him when he’d wondered if he truly would descend into madness, her quiet strength a beacon in the darkness when he’d needed it most.

And if she saw one more member of SHIELD’s admin department eyeing his spectacular ass in those tight pants he liked to wear, Daisy wasn’t going to be held responsible for the consequences.

“You’re growling,” Bucky said as he passed her, heading for their room. “What’s the matter?”

She was growling faintly under her breath, Daisy realised with some embarrassment. She stopped and followed Bucky, slamming the door behind her in a fit of frustration. “Stupid SHIELD regulations.”

“You mean the ones that say we can’t officially be having a relationship even though everyone knows we’re sharing a room?” Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Pretty dumb.”

“Not _everyone_ knows,” Daisy muttered angrily.

“What’s eatin’ ya, doll? We’ve been ignoring those regulations for months.”

She pulled her boots off and threw them across the room. “I know, and it’s not like Coulson cares, he never said a word about Hunter and Bobbi unless he thought it was affecting the team, and he _knows_ I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“So?” Pulling off his own boots, Bucky shrugged out of his jacket and reclined on the bed in just his henley and jeans. He beckoned to Daisy and she went over rather sulkily and flopped down beside him, letting him pull her into his arms. “What’s the problem? Tell me, doll. I don’t like seein’ ya like this.”

She buried her face against his neck, breathing in his unique Bucky-scent, warm man and WD-40. Before Bucky she’d never even imagined that WD-40 could be a sexy smell, but now just the faintest whiff could set her off, thinking about his dextrous metal fingers and what he could do to her with them.

“You’re _jealous_ ,” Bucky suddenly realised, letting out a surprised laugh. “Daisy, my only love, my beautiful girl, you gotta know that’s crazy thinkin’. I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

“I know that,” she mumbled against his neck. “But those girls from Accounts don’t, and I heard them talking about you in the cafeteria this morning. Women can be really _awful_.”

“No worse than men,” Bucky told her, stroking her hair gently. “I’ve heard men talk about women like they were pieces of meat - hell, I think I did it myself a time or two, back when I was young and stupid.” _Before the war_ , hung unspoken between them. “Why should it bother you, though? It’s not like they could do anything to me. _You’d_ break them in half if they tried.” There was amusement in his voice, trying to make her laugh. She didn’t.

“Nobody knows that, though!” Daisy griped, “not outside our little core group. And it’s not like any of them go around gossiping. It’s times like this I most miss Hunter.”

That made Bucky laugh and hug her closer. “Yeah, we could have relied on him to spread the word. You should get Elena to help. She’d whiz round and let everyone know in a flash.”

Daisy smiled a little at that. Pressed her lips against Bucky’s jaw. He’d shaved that morning and it was smooth; she kissed lightly down his neck, smiling wider when he gave a pleasured little sigh, his arms tightening around her.

“I’d just like to make it clear to those women that you’re _mine_ ,” she said, punctuating the last word with a little growl and a nip at his earlobe.

Bucky gasped, hips jerking upwards. “I like it when you get possessive of me,” he admitted huskily.

“Do you?” Daisy asked, a little surprised.

“Yeah - yeah, it’s nice. Makes me feel warm inside. Wanted.”

“Oh, you’re very much wanted,” she wriggled around until she could straddle his waist, sit astride him. Her deft fingers made quick work of his belt and the buttons of his jeans before sliding inside.

Bucky grunted as her hand wrapped around his cock. His blue eyes were dark as he looked up at her, pupils blown wide so that only a thin ring of blue was visible.

Wanting to see him, Daisy tugged at the hem of his henley. Quickly, Bucky reared up and dragged the offending garment off, throwing it aside before lying back and posing deliberately, pressing his arms down against the mattress and flexing his pectoral muscles.

“Ugh, you are just too gorgeous,” Daisy muttered, staring avidly. She gave into the temptation to rake her nails down across his stomach, making Bucky arch up and groan loudly, again. “You like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky panted. “Yeah, do it again - mark me up, let ‘em know I’m yours, doll. I’ll go jogging with no shirt on tomorrow, they’ll all see the scratches…”

“You’ll have healed up by then,” Daisy pointed out.

“Not if you make ‘em deep enough. Bite marks, too. Put them all over me.”

“You’re sure?” she was a little hesitant, leaning down to nibble at the unscarred side of his collarbone lightly.

“Yeah - oh God!” his arms clamped around her as she bit down hard; she tensed for a moment, wondering if she was hurting him, but the way he ground his straining cock against her and moaned deep in his chest told her that he was very much enjoying himself.

“Well, if that’s how you feel about it,” switching sides, she moved higher up, selected a tender-looking spot just below his ear, “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure _everyone_ will know you’re mine!”


	67. Bucky/Darcy for whitesilenceinthesnow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 17** - _“Too hot, hot damn, make a dragon wanna retire man!” Bucky/Darcy for whitesilenceinthesnow_

There was someone _singing_ in the kitchen. Loudly.

Stealthily, Bucky crept up the hallway, peered around the door. None of the Avengers were particularly musically inclined, except Clint who liked to twang on his guitar and sing country songs when he’d had a few beers - but the singer in the kitchen was neither male nor singing country.

It was, he found to his astonishment, a curvaceous brunette, dancing around in leggings and a baggy T-shirt, singing along to the music she was clearly listening to through her earbuds. She was also clearly not wearing anything under the T-shirt. The bounce of her unrestrained breasts beneath the thin fabric held Bucky’s attention riveted for quite a while, the wiggle of her hips about the only thing that distracted him as she turned her back to him.

“ _Girls hit your Hallelujah_ ,” she sang, “ _Whoo! Girls hit your Hallelujah!_ ”

He didn’t know the song, but it was poppy and catchy, and the girl obviously loved it, if her gyrations and the smile on her face as she sang were anything to go by.

Realising that he was being a creep watching her - and since he didn’t know who she was, he really should check if she was actually meant to be in here - he took a step forward into the kitchen, just as she turned again and saw him.

_“I’m too hot, hot damn, called a police and a fireman_ ,” Darcy sang, having a thoroughly good time. From the corner of her eye, she saw something move, and turned to see _oh my goodness that’s the Winter Soldier himself_. Wearing a pair of loosely fitting black track pants and absolutely nothing else. Her eyes roved over him appreciatively.

“ _Too hot, hot damn, make a dragon wanna retire man!_ ” The next line of the song was just too appropriate. She sang it directly at him, watched the grin appear on his handsome face. Pulling her earbuds out, she offered a hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m Darcy Lewis.”

“Ah, Dr Foster’s assistant,” he said in sudden comprehension, accepting the proffered hand and shaking politely. “I heard the two of you arrived back today.”

“Jet lag’s a bitch.”

“Which explains why you’re in the kitchen at three in the morning.”

“Yup!” Gesturing towards the stove, she said cheerfully “I’m making snickerdoodles. They’re not all that easy to come by in South Korea and Singapore, oddly enough. I woke up with a craving.”

“I love snickerdoodles,” Bucky admitted, charmed by her infectious cheer and her apparent lack of fear in his proximity. She hadn’t given his scars and his arm more than a passing glance.

“Play your cards right, Buckeroo, and I might share.” Darcy grinned at him.

“Does that mean I have to let you call me Buckeroo?”

“Well,” she gave him a comprehensive look up and down, “it’s either that or HotStuff McMurderThighs, which would you prefer?”

“If you go with that option I’m gonna call you CheekyMiss BouncyBoobs,” he threatened back with a chuckle.

“Oh, shit,” suddenly remembering her braless state, Darcy hastily folded her arms over her chest.

“Please don’t, I didn’t mean to be a creeper. I was admiring your dance and couldn’t quite help noticing,” Bucky was careful to keep his eyes on hers. “You’re very beautiful, I - oh God, please forget I said it. Just call me Buckeroo.”

Darcy smiled shyly back at him. “ _You_ think _I’m_ beautiful?” she asked in disbelief.

“Like an old-time pinup girl,” Bucky said honestly. “Back in WWII, all the guys had trading cards of pinup girls, used to trade them for smokes or chocolate, did ya know that?”

Fascinated at hearing a bit of history she’d never known about, Darcy shook her head, let her arms drop, leaned back against the kitchen counter and listened.

“Stevie, he could draw, ya know? He made some original ones, gave them to the Howling Commandos. There’s one he drew and gave to Jim Morita that’s in the Smithsonian. The museum curator told me that a similar one he gave to Gabe Jones fetched thirteen thousand dollars in a sale last year,” Bucky shook his head in wonder. “Anyways, he drew from his imagination, or pictures of the USO girls he knew.”

Darcy nodded in understanding.

“Those cards were like currency, and one of Stevie’s drawings could get ya a bottle of wine, or three or four packets of cigarettes, they were worth more than the printed ones because they were originals. Well,” Bucky ducked his head, smiled shyly at Darcy, “I reckon if he’d drawn pictures of you, I wouldnt’a wanted to trade them, but if I had, it would have been for no less than an entire crate of French Champagne. Each.”

Darcy stared at him in silence for a moment before sighing and saying. “Damn it, Buckeroo. All right. Consider my heart completely stolen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lyrics from Uptown Funk by Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars._


	68. Remy/Darcy for hkthauer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 19** - _“I’m sorry I’m not paranoid” fluffy Remy/Darcy for hkthauer_

A stream of foul invective in French made Darcy pop her head out of her hiding place.

“Oh, dear,” she said, rather inadequately failing to suppress her giggles at the hilarious sight of the elegant Remy LeBeau covered in pink silly string. “I should probably have warned you,” she called, “that Clint is really pissed off and taking revenge on absolutely everyone because Someone ate his leftover pizza and didn’t own up.”

Remy looked across at her head poking out from behind the sofa. “And do you know who that Someone was?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

“I wish. I’d have sold them out in a second and been able to move around freely without fear of setting off yet another booby trap.” Darcy considered. “Unless it was Natasha.”

“That is probably very wise.” Remy considered the silly string covering him, plucked at a piece. A flare of purple light pulsed around him and the string was suddenly gone.

“That is a _neat_ trick,” Darcy said admiringly.

“Eh,” Remy shrugged eloquently, crossed the room towards her. Unfortunately, he crossed one of Clint’s invisible laser tripwires on the way and got covered in silly string again.

Darcy completely failed to suppress the giggles this time.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not paranoid enough, apparently,” Remy said, rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and incinerated the string in another flash of purple light. A few steps later and he was towering over Darcy, smiling down at her.

“This looks like a good hiding place.”

“I’m not sure it’s big enough for two…” she didn’t really have time to finish the statement before Remy had somehow curled his long body in around hers, pulling her to sit flush against his chest in the gap between the couch and the wall. “Oh. Well. Maybe it _is_ big enough.”

“It is when the two are you and I,” he murmured into her ear, his lips tickling her earlobe, making Darcy wiggle against him. “ _Ma petite_ Darcy, I can willingly hide out with you for as long as it takes for Barton to recover the loss of his pizza.”

“Damn.”

“What?”

“I ordered him another one. Should arrive any minute.”

Remy chuckled, warm and sensual. “Then we shall just find another place to hide out together, _chère_.”


	69. Daisy/Rumlow/Rollins for mintchipandbooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 19** - _“You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” Daisy/Rumlow/Rollins for mintchipandbooks_
> 
> _Filthy. Could it really be anything but? Not part of An Unexpected Inheritance, but maybe something similar._

“Well, this is an interesting development.” Daisy stopped dead in the door of her room, staring at what was laid out in front of her. Brock, tied down to her bed with what looked like some very strong and efficiently tied ropes.

“Oh, there you are,” Jack stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. He was stripped to the waist, barefoot with only black cargo pants on. Daisy surveyed him with appreciation. “We were waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me - to what?” she looked back at Brock, who looked annoyed but resigned. There was a sheet neatly folded over his lower half, but she had a very strong suspicion that he was quite naked under it. Remembering that the door was still open, she closed it hastily, locked it as an afterthought. She really didn’t want Jemma coming in without knocking as she sometimes did.

“Brock behaved like a reckless idiot again today. I offered him the choice of me punishing him as I usually do - or you punishing him. He picked you. I just got him ready for you.”

Leaning back against the wall, Jack folded his arms and grinned. “I’m rather looking forward to it, actually. I bet you can make him squirm even more than I usually do.”

She had to lick her lips at the idea. Brock’s thick arm muscles tensed as she did, testing at the ropes binding him.

“You’re so mean,” he said to Jack, “but I’m okay with that, because I think you’re wrong. I don’t think she can.”

“Is that a challenge?” Daisy arched an eyebrow at him, grinning at the way his expression changed from cockily confident to suddenly wary.

“I think it was,” Jack agreed.

“I think it was too. And I think I know exactly how to make him squirm.” Slowly, she began to remove her clothes, moving to make sure that Brock had an absolutely perfect view. His lips parted, dark eyes wide to take her all in as the last of her clothing dropped to the floor.

“What are you gonna do to him?” Jack asked, curious, as Daisy moved over to the bed, leaning over so that her breasts swayed just above Brock’s face.

“To him? Why, nothing,” she glanced over her shoulder and smiled coquettishly at Jack. “If he’s been a bad boy, there’s no way I’m giving _him_ any reward. _You_ , on the other hand, should get those pants off.”

Jack’s grin broadened. “Oh, sweetheart. That really is cruel.”

Brock cried out as he realised what she intended. “No! Oh shit, this ain’t fair!”

“Fair? You being a reckless idiot and getting poor Jack all worried about you isn’t _fair_ ,” Daisy pointed out, climbing up to kneel on the edge of the bed beside him. “Although I’m interested to know what Jack normally does to punish you,” she looked back at Jack again, smiling to see he was now nude and moving purposefully towards her. “Perhaps you’ll show me sometime?”

“Perhaps I’ll demonstrate on you next time you freak both of us out,” Jack said dryly, hands settling on her hips.

“Me?” Daisy said innocently, leaning back against his broad chest as he tugged lightly, closing her eyes and luxuriating in his strength. “Would I?”

“Regularly,” Brock put in breathlessly, staring avidly at the two of them. Daisy looked so small and delicate against Jack’s bulk, his huge hands curving around to completely cover her breasts. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he chafed his palms over her nipples, and Brock groaned himself, thinking of how soft and silky her hair must feel against Jack’s skin.

“This is cruel,” he complained.

“You could always close your eyes,” Jack pointed out with a smirk.

“You’re kidding, right?” he wouldn’t have missed this for anything. It was like a live porn movie, playing out two feet from his face, only even better because it was the two most beautiful people in Brock’s world, and there was no acting about the way they were together. Despite his current frustrated predicament, Brock was well aware that this scene would be seared into his memory for the rest of his life.

Daisy parted her knees and sighed with pleasure; Brock bit down hard on his lower lip as he saw the tip of Jack’s cock emerge between her thighs, already shining with her slick, Jack rocking his hips slowly to drag it along her pussy. His fingers pinched down on her nipples and pulled gently, making Daisy sob with pleasure even as she let him drag her forward, her hands dropping down to brace herself on the bed, her face directly over Brock’s.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he told her fiercely, groaning again as her eyes glazed over. Looking down along the line of her body he saw Jack’s strong thighs bunching as he thrust slowly forward, could only imagine though that thick cock sliding slowly inside Daisy’s body. “You wet enough?” Brock had to check; she’d barely had any foreplay.

“Seeing you like this got me plenty wet,” she whispered back to him with a soft chuckle; bracing herself on one hand for a moment, she reached out the other to flip back the sheet. “You like watching Jack fuck me, huh?”

“I’d rather be joining in,” that was more than obvious from the straining state of his cock, the purpled head…

“Oh wow, Jack really _is_ cruel.” Brock was wearing a cock ring.

“And Jack clearly isn’t doing this right if you’re still talking,” the man himself said behind her, grasping her hips more firmly.

Daisy couldn’t talk after that, could only moan and then shriek with ecstasy as Jack pumped roughly into her. She tried to keep her eyes open to watch Brock’s face, watch his desperate, needy expression, but what Jack was doing felt too good. Her vision blurred over and she screamed, a long, low howl of pleasure as her climax ripped through her. Jack stilled behind her with a deep groan and she felt the heat flooding inside her as he came too, his powerful body curling around hers, strong arms folding around her stomach to hold her close.

“I hate you both,” Brock grumbled miserably.


	70. Daisy/Remy for kitkatklub99

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 20** - _"You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” Daisy/Remy for kitkatklub99_

“You’re not serious.”

Daisy roused at the low, amused voice speaking right by her ear. “Just gotta finish this,” she mumbled.

“ _Chère_ , the only thing you are doing is going to bed.”

She groaned as Remy pulled her upright, only then realising that she’d fallen asleep at her desk with her head on the keyboard. “Oh, shit!” She looked at the screen and saw a garbage jumble of letters. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she reached for the keyboard.

“ _Mon ange_ , it can wait,” Remy scooped her deftly out of the chair. “Fitz rescued the system when he saw the screen go crazy, do not fear,” when she struggled to get down. “But you, you have been burning the candle at both ends, being both SHIELD’s primary strike force leader, managing the Secret Warriors, and also running the computer systems. You are running yourself into the ground, and I won’t have it.”

He looked quite fierce as he spoke, carrying her out of the office and along the corridor towards the accommodation wing. Recognising his implacable expression, Daisy relaxed into his arms.

“You might be right,” she admitted with a yawn.

“A good leader must learn to delegate, _mon ange_.”

“You’re probably right about that too, dammit,” she mumbled, resting her head against his broad shoulder. “How long was I asleep?”

“Only a few minutes. Fitz called me, because he didn’t think you’d go to bed if he tried to make you.”

“I hate it when everyone else is right but me.”

He chuckled softly at her grumpy, sulky, childish tone, bent his head to kiss her brow. “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.”

“Mm,” she opened one brown eye a fraction, peeked up at him. “Well, at least I’m happy for you to be right about _that_.”


	71. AntWitch, for pomerqueen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 20** - _"Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" AntWitch, for pomerqueen_

_Occurs just after the ‘van’ scene in Civil War. Someone pointed out in a Tumblr post that they all changed from their ‘civilian’ clothes into their ‘suits’ at some point between leaving the van and the actual fight._

Of course, Steve told Wanda that she should change in the van. She didn’t care all that much, they’d all seen her quick-change before - well, all except Bucky who was standing scowling off into the distance anyway, and the new guy. Scott.

Who was looking in her direction with a bit of a goofy grin on his face, so she shrugged, got into the van, grabbed the bag Scott had brought with him and threw it at him. He caught it with a surprised smile as she slammed the door shut.

She didn’t really have to change to fight at all. But as Steve liked to say “You gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform” so she slipped her skirt off quickly and pulled on some trousers, changed her plain black jacket for her favourite red leather one.Opening the van door - it was stuffy in there, with the aircon off! - she sat down on the edge of the floor to lace her boots.

Scott’s suit was apparently nearly as complicated as Steve’s to put on, because he only had his pants and boots on. Wanda paused, transfixed, staring. He looked pretty ordinary in regular clothes, but out of them - well, he was a very nice sight, lean and fit, nicely muscled, dark hair curling on his chest and tapering down to a fine happy trail across his abs.She found herself mourning a little bit as he pulled the dark red and black jacket on, fastening the seals.

Scott caught Wanda watching him, gave her an uncertain little smile. Her reputation was a little scary to say the least, but in person she looked so young and sweet. She smiled back at him and he took a step closer, intending to speak to her, when she spoke first.

“So, apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

Wanda wanted to kick herself when she saw the astonished look on Scott’s face - and Clint, behind him, turning to laugh silently at her for the awful line.

Scott blinked, astonished. _She thinks I’m sexy?_ Puffing his chest up a little, he opened his mouth and said “I’m Ant-Man!”

Instantly he was assailed with an awful doubt. _Shit, she won’t have heard of me either and I’m going to make myself look like a total idiot_ … but Wanda’s face was blossoming into a delighted smile.

“Oh! That’s why Sam called you Tic Tac! Of course you are, I’ve heard so much about you!”

Scott felt about fifty feet tall as he walked shoulder to shoulder with Clint and Wanda down to the tarmac. And when he actually was fifty feet tall, he heard Wanda whooping with excitement, cheering his name.

He missed the end of the fight due to being completely unconscious. He woke up in a white cell with his suit gone.

It wasn’t until Cap came to break them out that Scott found out what had been done to Wanda. He ripped the straitjacket off her with his bare hands, unfastened the shock collar and threw it hard across the room. Wanda was still shaking, looking up at them from eyes glassy with terror, and it was the hardest thing Scott had ever had to do, to stand aside and let Clint, Clint who she trusted and saw as a father figure, lift her up and carry her gently out.

It was about four weeks later, in Wakanda’s bright sunshine, when she turned to him and smiled with a hint of that youthful sweetness he’d seen on their first meeting and said;

“So I hear you have a daughter. Won’t you tell me about her?”

Secure in the knowledge that Cassie would be on her way to visit very soon, Scott grinned and admitted “She’s how I know all about you. Last Hallowe’en I had to take her trick-or-treating in a Scarlet Witch outfit!”

Steve and Clint, walking in the garden not too far away, both froze with shock on hearing Wanda’s peal of laughter, before grinning at each other, high-fiving and carrying on their way.


	72. Pyro/Bobby/Darcy, for thedarkqueenofangels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 20 -** “Anticipation makes the hard-on longer" Pyro/Bobby/Darcy, for thedarkqueenofangels (18th)
> 
> _I doubt there’s any way to write this one without smut. Anyway, since you’re now legal (covers eyes and pretends you haven’t been reading my porn all along), happy smutty birthday to you!_
> 
> _NSFW, don’t say I didn’t warn you!_

“I’m totally gonna burn these ropes off if you don’t fucking hurry up and touch me,” John growled as Darcy took her time undressing. He and Bobby were _both_ tied up, sitting naked on Darcy’s bed with their hands bound behind them, John at the head and Bobby at the foot end.

“Now, now,” Darcy shook her finger at him. “Behave. You and Bobby promised me that the next time you two fought, I could punish you as I saw fit.”

“She’s got us there, Pyro,” Bobby said ruefully.

“I was drunk! So were you! I can’t believe she’s holding us to it,”John muttered grumpily. “It wasn’t a real fight anyway.”

“Tell that to my black eye,” Bobby snapped back.

“And your split lip,” Darcy leaned over and touched her finger to it. John hissed slightly with pain. “And a promise is a promise, drunk or not. So stop sulking.”

“Am not sulking!”

“Just for that, I’ll leave you until last. Anticipation makes the hard-on longer, anyway.” She smirked at him and turned away, crawling down the bed to Bobby, leaving John with a most spectacular view of her rear end. He groaned with frustration, knocking his head back against the headboard, but unable to stop watching avidly as Darcy reached Bobby and sat back on her haunches.

“Are _you_ ready to be a good boy?”

“Oh hell yes,” Bobby said fervently.

“Good.” She stood up, steadying her hands on his head, before lifting one leg over his shoulder and bracing her foot on the footboard. “Make me come with your tongue, and I _might_ ride your cock.” Glancing back over her shoulder at John, her dark hair falling seductively across one eye, she smirked at him. “Same goes for you.”

“It’ll be a lot more work the second time around,” he griped, but his heart wasn’t in it, not when he could already hear Bobby lapping eagerly, see Bobby’s already-erect cock swelling and thickening even further as he worked.

“That’s what you get for being a sarcastic whiny little shit,” Darcy said, and then pulled on Bobby’s hair sharply. “Hey. Did I tell you that you could use your powers? No cheating.”

All John heard was a muffled groan followed by a meek “Yes, mistress.”

He wanted to laugh at Bobby giving in so easily, but he was honest enough with himself to know that he’d do exactly the same thing when it was his turn. Considering the way his cock was throbbing with need just watching, he was pretty sure he’d be begging even before it _got_ to be his turn.


	73. AntWitch for doccd23414

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 21** - _"I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked" AntWitch for doccd23414_

He might be the newest Avenger, but he was getting well and truly sick of being treated like the new kid at school. Scott grudgingly admitted that Sam might - _might -_ be somewhat justified in his hazing, but there was no way that the rest of them had any cause. Especially not Wanda, ten years his junior!

And especially not in a goddamned text message she’d sent him, two hours after he _finally_ got to sleep after an exhausting day of training, saying “Kitchen. Now.”

Dragging on a pair of sweatpants - fuck it, he wasn’t going to bother getting properly dressed for whatever bullshit she was about to pull on him - he stormed grumpily off towards the kitchen.

“For the record,” he leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest, “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.”

Wanda turned from the stove, arching a delicate eyebrow at him, raking her eyes up and down his body. “Well, you’re not far off, so you can strip completely if you like and _then_ I’ll tell you what the problem is.”

Scott blinked at her, confused. “What? What problem?”

“Scott, there are ants in the kitchen. _Ants_. You know, the ones _you_ can talk to. I found them invading the sugar. You don’t want to know what Clint is like in the mornings if there is no sugar to put in his coffee, trust me, you really don’t, so be a darling and get rid of them before he decides to punch your head in?”

He followed her pointing finger to the trail of ants coming in from the window and along the kitchen counter.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t a prank. Wanda was doing all of them a huge favour. Scott had seen Clint in the morning _before_ his coffee and that was ugly enough.

“I’ll be right back.” Returning a minute later with his EMP communication device in his ear, he mentally ordered the ants out of the kitchen and declared it out of bounds unless he called them. They weren’t happy. He promised a delivery of sugar in the morning.

Wanda watched as the ants streamed back outside, abandoning their feast. “Thanks,” she told Scott as he took the earpiece out.

“You’re welcome. Anything to keep Clint from getting on my case even more than he already does,” Scott said with a sigh. Only then did he notice the delicious smell in the kitchen. “Damn, what’s that awesome smell?”

“Brownies,” picking up oven mitts, she opened up the stove and slid out a freshly baked, steaming hot tray. “I couldn’t sleep and wanted something sweet.”

“Oh,” Scott stood transfixed, staring at the delicious chocolatey goodness as she set the tray down on the counter. “I will do absolutely anything you want if you let me have some of those,” he offered.

“Well,” Wanda looked up at him, an amused little smile quirking her lips. “You _did_ make that offer to get naked.”


	74. Darcy/Bucky for justduck1982

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 22** \- _"You wouldn't dare!" Darcy/Bucky for justduck1982_
> 
> _(Karaoke, Grease or Dirty Dancing maybe?)_

“To the completion of our pop culture education!” Steve raised his glass in a toast.

“And especially to Darcy, our utterly fantastic teacher!” Bucky added.

She laughed bashfully, blushing as people turned to look at her. “Aww, guys, come on. It’s nothing. I just walked you through Netflix, honestly.”

“That is definitely not all you did,” Bucky disagreed. “There’s all the awesome music playlists…”

“The reading lists,” Steve put in.

“Taking Steve to art exhibitions and me to technology shows…”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Darcy cut Bucky off hastily, blushing even harder. “Honestly. My pleasure. You two have been the best students, and I am honestly so proud of you for picking up that obscure _Firefly_ reference Tony tried to bamboozle you with earlier.”

They both grinned, and then Steve nudged Bucky and nodded at Darcy.

“What?” Darcy caught the gesture.

“Remember, you two had that bet about if you could get us current, by your standards, before Christmas? He lost, and now he has to sing for you,” Steve said with a smirk.

“Oh. Oh no, Bucky, I wouldn’t hold you to that, really!”

He grinned at her, ducking his head a bit sheepishly. “I want to, doll. Been practicin’, actually.”

Standing up, Bucky headed for the small stage and the band who had been playing to entertain the guests at the party. Suddenly realising what he intended, Darcy made throat-cutting gestures. “You wouldn’t dare! Not in front of all these people! Oh my God, Bucky, no!”

He ignored her completely, speaking briefly to the band leader before accepting the offered microphone. Sensing something interesting about to happen, the room quieted, the crowd of guests turning to look at Bucky.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to a very special lady,” he said, “one whose hard work too often goes unrecognised, mainly because she has the terrible habit of puttin’ herself down. I’m here to say that you’re special, Darcy Lewis, that you’re beautiful, and I’m gonna stand here sayin’ it until you start to believe me.”

Tomato red, Darcy buried her face between her hands, but couldn’t quite resist watching through her fingers as Bucky gestured to the band guitarist and then began to sing. As she recognised the first lines of the song, though, she dropped her hands completely, her mouth gaping open with shock.

_“_ _Now I've had the time of my life, No, I've never felt like this before, Yes I swear it's the truth, And I owe it all to you.”_

“ _Dirty Dancing_?” she turned to Steve in amazement. “What? I never made you guys watch _that_!”

“You didn’t, but it was No. 1 on your list of Favourites,” Steve said with a grin. “Buck and I watched it one night. He decided that you were definitely the Baby in this story.”

She looked back at Bucky, who, _oh no_ , was walking in her direction, crooning the song in an absolutely amazing voice. Holding his hand out to her.

“If you try to lift me up above your head I’m outta here,” Darcy warned as Bucky reached her. He grinned.

“ _You're the one thing I can't get enough of, So I'll tell you something; This could be love_ ,” he sang, beckoning gently with his fingers, his beautiful blue eyes intent on hers.

Darcy couldn’t help herself. So maybe it was only a fantasy, but she could have it for five minutes, no harm in that. Accepting his hand, she let him pull her up, to the cheers of the watching crowd, who had by now started singing along.

Arriving back at the stage, Bucky tossed the microphone back to the band leader, who caught it and carried on singing without missing a beat. Pulling Darcy into his arms, Bucky swayed along with her to the music.

“Ain’t nobody ever gonna put my Darcy in the corner,” he told her earnestly.

“Oh, Bucky, you are just the sweetest guy,” Darcy melted inside, as she always did when around Bucky. _Please, God, don’t let him ever find out about my crush on him_ …

“And you’re the sweetest gal.” He swallowed, gathered himself. “I never did feel like this before, Darcy. That really is the truth. And I was wond’rin… if you’d be _my_ gal.”

She blinked. Several times. “Am I dreaming?” she asked weakly.

Grinning, Bucky pulled her closer, dipped her back over his arm, and kissed her breathless. “Still wond’rin if you’re dreaming?” he asked against her mouth before pulling her back upright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _Lyrics from (I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes (Dirty Dancing soundtrack)_


	75. Clint/Steve, for atheandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 23 _-_** _“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.” Clint/Steve, fluffy, for atheandra_

“Come on in, it’s not locked,” Clint called in response to the knock at his door. There was silence for a few moments, and then a large shadow fell over where he stood at the sink, peering into the mirror.

“You’re seriously putting stitches in your own eyebrow?”

Clint grinned happily at Steve’s reflection. “Lucky’s terrible at them.”

“Almost as terrible as you are at feeding that poor dog. Did you actually deliberately give him your leftover Chinese food?”

“It was the only food I had in, and he loves Chicken Chow Mein!” Clint defended himself.

Steve sighed and took the needle from Clint’s hand. “Sit down before you stick yourself in the eye. Are you drunk?”

“Ditto for whisky being the only anaesthetic I had in,” Clint gave him a lopsided grin, perching his butt on the edge of the bathtub.

“So what happened this time?” Steve said, carefully choosing where to place the next stitch. Clint didn’t wince when he pressed the needle through the skin, which told Steve that Clint had probably had a lot more whisky than he’d first thought. “Who did you pick a fight with?”

“I didn’t pick a fight with anyone!” Clint declared virtuously. “I was walking Lucky and minding my own business when one of Lucky’s former owners happened to spot me across the street. Next thing I know, I’m fighting off half a dozen angry Russian mobsters.”

Steve shook his head with a grin. Considering that Lucky didn’t have so much as a scratch on him, he was pretty sure the Russians hadn’t fared very well in that encounter. “One of them got a lucky shot in, huh?”

“Actually,” Clint said sheepishly, “I dropped the edge of the Dumpster lid on my own head when I was looking in on them and telling them not to fucking mess with me again.”

Steve couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing and had to stop stitching.

“It’s not funny! I was perfectly fine and now I’ve ruined my favourite T-shirt!” Clint gestured in disgust at his blood-spattered shirt. “And my head is absolutely throbbing with pain.” He looked up at Steve through lowered lashes. “You know what I need?”

“Not more whisky, that’s for sure,” Steve snickered.

“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.”

Startled, Steve paused in tying off the last stitch. “You’re welcome to a hug any time,” he said at last, snipping the thread and turning to wash his hands. “But sex? Pretty sure that’s just the whisky talking, Clint.”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” Clint’s arms slid around his waist from behind. “Maybe it’s just the whisky making me brave enough to finally ask,” he said against Steve’s back.

Turning in the loose hug, Steve looked down at the smaller man, one of his teammates, one of his best friends. “Didn’t think you swung that way,” slowly, he put his arms around Clint in return, drew him into a close embrace.

“I gotta get real close to someone to be interested, but once I do, once I trust someone - the plumbing ain’t important.”

Clint’s gray-blue eyes were soft, earnest, as he gazed up at Steve. Tightening his arms around Clint, Steve asked “So how exactly does a hug ‘turn into’ sex, then?”

“Well,” Clint’s irrepressible grin broke out, “it really helps if we get naked first, but then I can definitely show you how that works!”


	76. Frank Castle/Karen Page, for that-wimpy-cowboy-doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 24** \- _“Were you dreaming about me?” Frank Castle/Karen Page, for that-wimpy-cowboy-doll_

Awareness returned slowly, and with it, the sensation of pain. Frank was too accustomed to waking in pain to make a sound; just lay, silently cataloguing the hurts. _Bullet wound, left hip. Through and through, just above the bone - missed anything vital, luckily. Knife wounds, one, two, three…_ the worst one in his right bicep, would impinge on the muscle’s action for a few weeks, probably. He flexed the muscle minutely without opening his eyes. Stitched, and very neatly too, he assessed. An itch in the back of his hand told him that an IV cannula was in there, feeding him saline, probably. But he wasn’t in a hospital. There was no telltale beep of monitors, no hustle and bustle around him. No painkilling drugs in his system, making him sluggish.

He opened his eyes.

“You’re still with us, then,” Claire Temple said dryly.

“Ain’t that bad hurt.”

“Individually, the wounds aren’t serious, but you nearly bled out before Matt dragged you back here.”

Frank looked around, realised he was at Matt’s place. And Claire wasn’t the only one there. Karen was curled up asleep on a chair by the bed, her red-gold hair tumbling over her propped hand, her delicate face peaceful in sleep. His own expression softened as he looked at her, and Claire harrumphed.

“I gotta get to work. But just a piece of advice for you, buddy; try and keep your blood on the _inside_ of your body if you want to live to vigilante another day.” She shouldered her bag with a sniff and walked out, muttering “Is that even a verb? Who cares,” under her breath.

Karen shifted in the chair with a little sigh, her eyes fluttering open. Seeing that he was awake, she straightened up at once, leaning forward to touch his hand lying lax on the bedcovers.

“Frank! How are you feeling?”

“Had worse,” he replied laconically.

“I don’t think so, because Claire said any more blood loss and you’d have been a goner,” Karen thinned her lips and shook her head at him. “You’ve got to stop doing this, Frank!”

He didn’t say anything. Any promise he made would have been a lie, and they both knew it.

“How long was I out?” he asked eventually, turning his hand under hers to lightly squeeze her slender fingers.

“Two days.”

“Have you been here all this time?” Frank already knew the answer even before she nodded.

“You make noises in your sleep, did you know?” Karen gave him a little smirk, like she knew something he didn’t.

“Do not.”

“Oh, but you do. You snort and mutter. At least twice I heard my name. Were you dreaming about me, Frank?”

She was teasing him; she didn’t understand. The truth would wipe that little smile from her face, send her far away, afraid of him again, so he opened his mouth and told it.

“I dream of you every time I close my eyes.” Sometimes he dreamed of finding her broken and bloodied, a ravaged corpse with sightless blue eyes staring blindly at the sky; those were the nights he woke up screaming, raging against a world which had already stolen too much from him. They were still easier to deal with than the gentler dreams which haunted him more frequently of late, of Karen soft and willing, naked in his arms, her lissom body twining around his as she whispered words of passion and desire to him.

“Well, then,” far from fleeing, Karen tightened her fingers around his, “that makes two of us, because you’re there with me every time I sleep, Frank.”

He had to ask. “Good dreams, or bad?”

Her smile was soft; the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, a ray of sunshine in his darkness.

“Even the bad dreams turn good once you come for me.”

Frank knew, then, that he was fighting against the inevitable. Pulling gently on her hand until she let him draw it to his lips, kiss her fingertips, he promised “I’ll always come for you, Karen. No matter what.”

Sunshine seemed to fill the room as she smiled again, and whispered “I know.”


	77. Jemma/Bucky for thisisriversong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 25** \- _“Does it taste alright?” Jemma/Bucky for thisisriversong_
> 
> _You asked for ‘wedding day’ but that wasn’t on the valid[list of prompts](http://ozhawkauthor.tumblr.com/birthdays), and you didn’t get back to me when I contacted you to ask you to choose again. I chose another one for you from my list. Hope you like it!_

“No needles,” Jemma said doubtfully to Coulson.

“He does not deal well with anything sharp wielded by anyone in his proximity, Jemma. I asked him if he could inject himself and he said no. He provided the blood sample by cutting his own arm and dripping it into a cup,” Coulson raised his eyebrows at her. “Nothing sharp, Jemma. I won’t risk you.”

“But he’s deficient in several vital trace minerals, it would be so much easier to give them via…” she trailed off at Coulson’s stern look. “Yes, sir. I can probably make up something for him to take orally,” she sighed. “It won’t be as efficient.” She was already debating on the best method as she left the office, though.

Bucky looked up at the little British scientist tapped gently on his door. She was a pretty little thing, he mused, with her bright, intelligent eyes, her air of always thinking about something.

“Agent Simmons,” he said politely, standing as she came in.

“Oh, please call me Jemma, no need to be formal,” she smiled sweetly, and he found himself cracking a small smile in return, which seemed to startle her. She blinked at him, lips parted.

“Well, what can I do for you, Jemma?”

“Uuuuhhhh,” the way he looked when he smiled was positively brain-scrambling. “Uhhm, yes. I made this for you.” She held out a plastic drinking bottle.

“And this is what?” Bucky took it from her hand.

“It’s a special vitamin and minerals drink. I worked from a base of Gatorade, Fitz said he’d seen you drinking the red flavour - um, yes, well, anyway, there’s some special extras in there, you’re very deficient in molybdenum and selenium…” she was babbling, she realised, but he was still smiling at her.

“Okay.” Bucky cracked the top of the bottle and took a long slug. Jemma watched in fascination as his head tipped back, muscles working in his throat.

“Does it taste alright?” she asked. “Because you’re going to need to drink about half a litre a day for the next couple of weeks or so.”

“It’s not bad, actually,” Bucky lowered the bottle. Smiled at Jemma again, a little flirtatiously this time. “I don’t mind it all when it arrives with such a beautiful delivery girl.”

She couldn’t help but blush as he turned on the charm. “Oh, uhm, well. I, uh, I’ll make it in batches and leave it in the fridge in my lab, so you can come around and collect any time you like.”

“I’ll do that,” Bucky said. “I’ll make sure you’re there when I do, though. Just so’s you can see I’m taking it properly.”

Jemma couldn’t make any sensible sound come out of her mouth, so she just nodded.

“Or maybe we could go get a meal together, and you can check my food intake too. See that I’m eating the right things.”

_Is he actually asking ME on a date?_

“Sounds good, yeah,” Bucky said, and she realised to her horror that she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. Again.

“Wait, you really _are_ asking me on a date?”

“Definitely,” sensing an advantage, Bucky pushed his luck. “Actually I was just about to go get some lunch. Would you care to join me?”

Utterly bemused, Jemma found herself walking along the corridor, her hand tucked into the crook of Bucky’s arm, he carrying the plastic bottle in his other hand. _How the hell did I come to deliver a supplement drink to the Winter Soldier and wind up on a lunch date with Bucky Barnes?_ she wondered.

“Well, it helps that you’re so gorgeous I can’t take my eyes off you.”

_Oh, crap, I’m talking out loud again…_

“It’s a rather charming habit, though!”

 


	78. Darcy/Sif platonic for pacees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 29** \- _Darcy/Sif, platonic, for paceees_
> 
> _This is a continuation of the Darcy/Tony ‘verse I started_ [ _here_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/16729300) _and continued_ [ _here_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/16799215) _._
> 
> _I picked “Why are you looking at me like that?” for the prompt :)_

“Thor tells me that you plan to wed with the Man of Iron.”

Darcy looked up, startled, to see Sif standing beside her computer desk.

“Um, yes?” she said, a little questioningly. Thor had only turned up with Sif the night before, muttering something about Asgard being a little too awkward for her right now. Whatever that meant.

“Are you sure?”

Darcy had to smile at Sif’s earnest expression. “I have to say I’ve doubted my own sanity a time or two, but yes. I love him.”

Sif just stared at her searchingly.

“Um, why are you looking at me like that?” Darcy asked after the silence got too long and too awkward.

“I am considering your bride-price. You are young, beautiful and intelligent, with hips built for child-bearing. The Man of Iron should pay your father no less than fifty thousand Ægans for your hand.”

Interested, and surprised, Darcy propped her chin on her hand and looked at Sif inquiringly. “So what’s an Ægan worth, then?”

“Ah,” Sif frowned. “About sixteen galactic credits, by the current exchange rate, I believe?” Seeing Darcy look no more enlightened, she grinned, suddenly. “Quite a lot. The wage for a sergeant in the Palace Guard is forty-five Ægans per week.”

Darcy still didn’t have much idea what that meant. Well, assuming that was a generous weekly wage of about a thousand dollars, Sif was saying that Tony should be paying her father better than two million dollars for the privilege of marrying her, she calculated.

Well, Tony was paying for the wedding, which probably cost a good deal more than that, and her dress, and Jane’s maid of honor dress, and flying her whole extended family to Hawai’i for a month, so she reckoned the Lewis family were probably doing all right out of the deal. She said as much to Sif, who nodded approvingly.

“It is good that the Man of Iron appreciates your worth. Now, I have been married before, so if there is anything you would like to ask me about the marital state, I will be glad to enlighten you. If you wish it.”

Darcy stared at her. Sif gave her an encouraging smile.

“The marital bed…?” she prompted gently. “You must have questions.”

Darcy’s jaw almost hit her desk, it dropped so far. “Wait. Are you telling me that Asgardians don’t have sex before marriage?”

Sif blushed at the question. “No!”

“... this explains quite a lot about why Jane always seems so frustrated,” Darcy realised. “The big guy isn’t putting out.”

Sif appeared to have finally caught on as to why Darcy appeared so shocked. “Midgardians _do_ have… marital relations… outside marriage,” she realised. “You and the Man of Iron are already intimate. Oh, I have made a fool of myself!”

“No!” Darcy reached out, grabbed Sif’s hand as the other woman made to get up. “That was a really kind thought. Please, don’t go.”

Sif’s smile was rather shy as she relaxed back into her chair. “There is much I have to learn about Midgardian customs, I see.”

“There is,” Darcy agreed, “and the first one is the bridal shower. It’s this afternoon, you must come, it’ll be lots of fun, if maybe a bit shocking.”

Sif opened her mouth, closed it again, and laughed. “I was about to say that I will not be shocked since I have been married before, but you have already managed to shock me, so I may well be wrong!”

The lab doors slid open at that moment and Tony came striding in, a broad grin spreading across his face as soon as he caught sight of Darcy.

“My beloved,” he declared grandiosely.

“What have you done now?” Darcy demanded, recognising the guileless expression he was wearing only too well. Last time he’d walked in wearing that face, she’d discovered Vera Wang herself waiting in her apartment to measure Darcy up for her custom-designed wedding dress.

“Nothiiiinnngg….” he dangled something from his fingers. Something that looked a lot like a set of car keys. Darcy’s eyes lit up.

“For me?”

“Maybe, if my lovely fiancée felt like coming over here and giving me a kiss for them _awwwwkkk!_ ” Tony cut off in a strangled squawk as Sif’s hand closed on his throat.

“You demand _payment_ for gifts of love to your betrothed?” Sif demanded indignantly.

Her grip on Tony’s throat was so powerful he couldn’t make a sound, just claw helplessly at her fingers and turn blue. It was Darcy who immediately leaped up, grabbed Sif’s arm and yelled;

“No, no, put him down, it’s just a joke!”

Sif’s fingers opened and Tony fell with a thud, Darcy immediately going to her knees beside where he landed on his butt.

“Are you alright, darling?”

He massaged his throat, eyeing Sif with some horror. “Darcy, my darling,” he asked hoarsely, “have you somehow acquired a _duenna_?”

“Um,” Darcy looked up at Sif who was still giving Tony a disapproving stare. “Possibly. It appears that Asgardians don’t go in for pre-marital sex. I suspect Sif thinks you’ve disgracefully seduced me.”

“Did you tell her the seduction was definitely mutual?”

Darcy had to smile. “No. I felt like it might be handy to have her on my side.”

Sif’s lips twitched, confirming Darcy’s suspicion that she’d been silently laughing at the entire conversation. Tony, however, was looking at Darcy and not Sif.

“If she’s gonna start cock-blocking me any time I get near you, I’m gonna make Thor take her back to Asgard!”

 


	79. Darcy/Sabretooth for houseofthegnome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **July 31** _\- “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” Darcy/Sabretooth for houseofthegnome_
> 
> This one's smutty :)

He couldn’t stand it. Not. One. More. Second. If that silver-haired little speedster’s gaze lingered for _one more second_ on _his_ Darcy’s bosom, so help him, Victor was gonna rip his throat out with his bare claws. A soft growl rumbled in his throat as Darcy laughed and patted Pietro’s arm before turning to walk away.

The little Sokovian shit even watched Darcy walk away with an appreciative smirk on his pretty-boy face. Victor’s claws grated on the metal windowsill, making a whining noise that jerked him back to himself.

“Victor?” he heard Darcy’s voice in the hallway outside, turned to face the door. “Victor!” she flung it open, face shining with joy. “You’re back!” Running across the room, she flung herself into his arms, pressing kisses across his face.

“Didn’t look like you missed me all that much, not with pretty boy makin’ up to you,” Victor growled, trying to restrain the urge to shred her clothes from her body and take her right up against the window where Maximoff could see.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Darcy chided, “Pietro’s just a friend. He knows I have a boyfriend.”

“Does he? Does he know I’ll rip his pretty face off for lookin’ at you sideways?”

“Victor,” she put her hands to his cheeks, made him look at her. “You’re being jealous. It’s hot as fuck, but you don’t need to be.”

“Well, I am. You’re _mine_.”

Her pupils blew out with lust as he growled the possessive words. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, reaching to push his coat back off his shoulders. “Show me how much you missed _me_ , Victor…”

He lost the battle with his baser instincts and turned them around, hoisting Darcy easily up to seat her on the windowsill. Over her head, he could still see Maximoff in the distance, occasionally casting glances up at the window.

_I’ll show that little asshole just what it takes to keep a woman like Darcy satisfied…_

Darcy’s clothes floated to the floor in pieces as Victor tore them to shreds, though he never nicked her tender skin. His own clothes followed, equally destroyed, in his need to get them off quickly, to feel her silken skin against his again. She sobbed with joy as he lifted her ass in the air, pressing her back against the window, driving deep with one rough thrust. She was wet for him already, but tight, so tight. Victor’s eyes closed with bliss.

“Mine,” he growled, in a voice so harsh and deep it was barely even human. “You’re _mine_ , Darcy…”

“Yes,” she agreed deliriously, digging her heels into his ass. “Take me, Victor, make me yours, ohhh, yessss!” She howled with pleasure as his hips rocked, his claws biting very lightly into her butt, not hard enough to break the skin - just enough for her to feel it.

“Mine,” he bit at her throat, careful not to pierce the flesh with his fangs. “Mine. Mine. I’m not gonna stop leaving marks until _everyone_ knows it.” Victor glanced out of the window, smiled with triumph as he saw Pietro was no longer there.

“Yes, mark me up,” Darcy panted as Victor’s hips snapped back and forth faster, his powerful hands holding her still. “Show everyone I’m yours OHHHHH!” her scream as she came was loud enough that Victor suspected everyone in the facility had heard it.

Especially since the door was still open. Not that he gave a shit. Anyone stupid enough to look into the room after hearing noises like that fully deserved an eyeful.

“Good girl,” he praised, carrying Darcy, still wrapped tightly around him, through to the bedroom; easing her down to the bed still buried deep inside her. “That was just the start. Be at least tomorrow before I’m through sayin’ a proper hello.”

She moaned ecstatically as he eased his thumb in between them, teasing the tip of his claw over her clit with incredible delicacy. “The only thing that makes up for you going away,” she slurred out, “is the incredibly good fucking I always get when you get home.”

Victor grinned, his fangs showing, grinding his hips in a tight little circle. “You’re so perfect, my Darcy girl. So beautiful.”

She arched up, heels pulling on the backs of his thighs, breasts bouncing with every rough thrust. He gave in to the urge to lean down and bit on them, too, leaving the marks of his passion all over her even though he knew nobody would ever see them.

Pietro Maximoff would see the look of a well-fucked woman on Darcy tomorrow, in her swollen lips and drooping eyelids, the love bites all over her fair skin. When Victor finally deigned to let her out of his bed, anyway. And that would be quite good enough for Victor Creed.


	80. Darcy/Bucky/Steve for mischaduesouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 1**  
>  _\- "Small Fire! I said set a small fire! That is not small!" Darcy/Bucky/Steve for mischaduesouth_

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bucky said.

“Language,” Steve said almost absently, before “What?”

“ _That,_ Steve!” Bucky took off running before Steve even turned around.

“Oh, shit!” Steve hissed before taking off after Bucky himself, sprinting towards the rising column of smoke from the house they’d just left a few minutes earlier.

Darcy was outside, milling around with the other party guests looking convincingly bemused and frightened. She clutched at Bucky as he hurried up to her.

“Oh, darling! It’s so frightening, the house has caught fire!”

“ _Small_ fire,” Bucky hissed between his teeth. “I said set a _small_ fire, to make a distraction while Steve and I checked out the outbuildings. That is _not_ small,” he gestured to the flames now leaping enthusiastically from the second-story windows.

“Well,” Darcy smiled sheepishly up at him. “Not _now_ , it’s not.”

“Are _you_ alright, though?” Steve caught up, put his arms around Darcy protectively.

“Fine, fine! Well. I might possibly have caught a little bit of my dress on fire.”

“ _What?_ ” they both almost-shrieked simultaneously.

“Which is why I stole a rather large man’s overcoat to put over it, because really nobody should have been anywhere near the flames. Those curtains, _such_ a fire hazard, who the hell makes curtains out of polyester anyway? Tacky, tacky,” Darcy sniffed.

Her distraction tactics did not work. Steve and Bucky looked at each other, and then Steve sighed, picked Darcy up and put her over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she squealed indignantly.

“Getting you the hell out of here before you get into any more trouble,” Steve said succinctly.

“And taking you home so we can make sure it’s only your _dress_ that got burned,” Bucky added.

Darcy decided not to protest any further. It had been a boring as hell party anyway, especially since the hacker button Tony had given her had lifted all the information they needed from their host’s computer within thirty seconds after her sneaking into his office. Setting fire to his curtains had really been just so she didn’t have to admit to Bucky and Steve that _theirs_ was the decoy mission.

 _Mission accomplished_. She smiled privately to herself, against Steve’s back where neither of her boyfriends could see.

_I’m still gonna make Stark pay for a new dress, though. Stupid polyester curtains._


	81. Daisy/Natasha for the-boob-aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 3** _\- “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.” Daisy/Natasha for the-boob-aesthetic_

“So,” Natasha walked a slow circle around the young woman. Mentally gave her a few plus points for just folding her arms and looking a trifle bored instead of intimidated. Most people got a bit nervous when Natasha walked in that predatory way. “You want to be an Avenger, hmm?”

“Beats the alternative,” Daisy blew a gum bubble, popped it and sucked it back in. “Lone vigilantism gets pretty - _lonely_.”

It was a dorky line absolutely worthy of Natasha herself, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Even harder when Daisy gave her a meaningful look up and down before smirking and blowing another gum bubble.

“The problem with assimilating those who previously worked alone into a team is that they’re not always very good at following orders,” Natasha said, a little more seriously.

“Oh, I know how to follow orders.” Daisy gave her another sassy smile. “I don’t _like_ being told what to do unless I’m naked, but I know _how_ to follow orders.”

Natasha finally lost the battle with herself and started laughing. “Oh, Daisy. I like you. But whatever you do, don’t make that offer to Stark. He’ll want to take you up on it.”

“I was rather hoping _you_ would, actually,” Daisy said, and her voice was quite steady and calm.

“Really,” Natasha gave her a slow smile in return, getting more interested by the minute. “Did you read the section in the Avengers’ Code about fraternisation?”

“Actually, I specifically searched the Code for that term. It’s not in there.” Daisy raised her eyebrows at Natasha. “Can’t help but wonder if it was a deliberate omission.” She blew another gum bubble, and in that moment Natasha decided that Daisy really was on the level.

“Absolutely it was. I knew one day someone would come along who I decided I just had to get into bed.” Tossing her red curls, she reached into a pocket, extracted some gum of her own. “Looks like that day finally came.”


	82. Bucky/T'Challa for iamadelicateflowergoddammit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 3** - _"You and I would have really attractive children.” Bucky/T'Challa for iamadelicateflowergoddammit_

Bucky liked the young king of Wakanda. A lot. But boy, did the kid really have a stick up his ass. Even worse than Steve, about some things. It was all duty, responsibility, honor with T’Challa.

Even T’Challa’s bodyguards tried to loosen him up, to no apparent avail. Bucky watched them tease and joke, watched T’Challa crack no more than the slightest smile before he brow would furrow again.

“That boy needs to get laid,” Aunika muttered as she passed Bucky, with a meaningful tilt of her head towards T’Challa. Bucky didn’t bother to suppress his grin. The Dora Milaje had been pretty vocal with their opinions that Bucky should just jump T’Challa and get him to relax some. In fact, they went a whole lot further than just opinions. Some of the suggestions they’d offered had made even Bucky blush.

“Will you just go fuck him already?” Nakia muttered next, giving Bucky a not-at-all discreet shove in the back.

“ _Consent_ , Nakia,” Aunika reminded her, making Nakia roll her eyes.

“T’Challa is gagging for it. We all see the way he looks at you when he thinks you do not see,” she told Bucky.

“This is true. Just go. The Dora Milaje will be ever in your debt, if you can only get T’Challa to stop trying to micro-manage everything in Wakanda,” Aunika agreed. “Go distract him. Please.”

“I’ll try,” Bucky agreed finally, laughing at the way Nakia looked almost pathetically grateful. “He’s been pretty oblivious to subtle flirting, though.”

“Then be less subtle,” Aunika rolled her eyes as though to say, _what an obvious solution, you idiot_. She led Nakia out and the door closed behind them with a decisive thud.

Bucky looked at T’Challa poring over a pile of papers at his desk, considered a few possible approaches for a moment before discarding them all and just heading over, pushing T’Challa’s office chair back slightly and sitting his butt down on top of the offending papers.

“Y’know,” he said cheerfully, “you and I would have really attractive children.”

T’Challa’s jaw dropped open with surprise before he began to chuckle, his eyes alight with mirth. “My friend,” he said, in the low rich voice that did such good things to Bucky’s libido, “there is a slight biological problem with that suggestion.”

“Considering what I’ve seen of Wakandan tech, actually there’s probably not,” Bucky said, flexing the fingers of his replacement hand. “But we’ll save a talk about possible mpreg for another time, I was really thinkin’ that today could be more just about good old-fashioned sex.”

“I could go for that,” T’Challa admitted.

“Excellent,” Bucky stood up, turned around and cleared T’Challa’s desk of papers with a single sweep of his arm. “Get over here, then. I’ve been thinking about despoiling you on this desk for _ages_.”


	83. Platonic Darcy Lewis/Bruce Banner for ironman-out-keele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 3** - _“No — no. Just keep your clothes on.” platonic Darcy Lewis/Bruce Banner for ironman-out-keele_
> 
> _(Timeframe, somewhen between Avengers and CATWS)_

“Holy wow,” Darcy gazed around the state-of-the-art lab, her eyes huge. “ _Duuuude_. Jane is gonna flip her lid over getting to play with all these toys.”

Bruce had to chuckle as he turned to greet her. “Well, these are the bio-lab toys, but I promise Dr Foster’s lab is just as well equipped with the kind of toys she’ll appreciate.”

“Nice,” Darcy smiled appreciatively at the large computer screens, the top-of-the-line ergonomic chairs, the extremely expensive-looking coffee machine on the counter. “Very nice. Anyway, I’m here for my New Employee Medical as ordered, Dr Banner.” She toed out of her shoes and started to unbutton her blouse.

“No, no,” Bruce waved his hands hastily at her. “Just keep your clothes on! We don’t resort to anything as crude as physical examinations here.”

“Oh,” she stopped, saw his averted eyes and quickly did her blouse back up again. “Really? Excellent. Because I was really not looking forward to it. The one SHIELD put me through soured me on them for life.”

“SHIELD, or medical examinations?” Bruce gestured to her to step into the full-body scanner he and Tony had built.

“Both, frankly!”

“Well, that’s something we can both agree on,” Bruce grinned at her. “I’ve very much had enough of being prodded and poked at, and SHIELD haven’t exactly endeared themselves to me.”

“Word,” Darcy held up a hand and he high-fived her with a grin.

“Okay, you have to stand there for about three minutes. You can move around a little, just not too much. Can I get you a coffee for when you come out?”

“You are my new best friend, Bruce Banner,” Darcy said happily.

He smiled as he headed over to the Keurig. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she was perfectly willing to accept him as a friend anyway. Hulk rumbled happily in the back of his mind.

 _Darcy friend_.

“Yes,” Bruce agreed happily. “Cream and sugar, Darcy?” he called back to her. “And there’s some cake here, too.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like a scientist wrangler?” Darcy called in response. “I’m sure I can take you on as well as Jane, especially since you seem to have the sense to actually have coffee and cake on hand!”

“Do I need wrangling, if I remember to feed myself?” Bruce wondered aloud.

“I’ve already heard all about your sleeping habits, Brucie.”

Startled, he looked back at her, and Darcy wagged a finger at him, grinning. “Or should I say, lack of?”

“How do you…?”

“Let’s just say that JARVIS and I already have an arrangement.” She smirked at him.

Bruce had to laugh. “You’re going to manage me whether I like it or not, aren’t you?”

“Yup!” Darcy popped her _p_ and grinned at him. “You’re stuck with me now, Brucie!”

Somehow, he felt like he didn’t really mind that at all.


	84. Steve/Bucky/Darcy for lightshinesthru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 5** \- _"Are you going to eye fuck me all night or do something about it?” Steve/Bucky/Darcy for lightshinesthru_
> 
> _(I changed the ME to US to fit the story)_

“They took Darcy!” someone was shrieking. Steve waved aside the choking dust rising from the collapsed roof of the lab, and he and Bucky stepped forward cautiously, peering around.

“Thor?” Steve called. “You here?” Travel-by-hammer was a lot faster than via quinjet, and when the alarm at Jane Foster’s lab had tripped, Thor took off instantly.

“Here,” Thor came striding through the dust. He was carrying Dr Foster, who batted at him impatiently, demanding to be put down, which he ignored. “The villains have abducted Lady Jane’s assistant, my shield-sister, Lady Darcy. They set off in a black van heading west, not five minutes hence.”

“On it,” Steve and Bucky immediately spun and sprinted back to the jet.

They spotted the van pretty quickly, but it wasn’t moving, just stopped in the middle of the road leading to the observatory. Steve hastily set the quinjet down in a neighbouring field and the pair of supersoldiers leaped over the fence and sprinted to the van. With a quick nod from Steve, who brought his shield up defensively, Bucky clamped his metal hand on the handle of the rear door and ripped the door clean off its hinges.

There was a shriek, and a faint metallic pinging sound.

Steve stared incredulously over the rim of his shield at the young woman who’d just shot it with a Taser.

Bucky found himself grinning. “Would you be Miss Lewis, by any chance?” he drawled.

“Yes!” Darcy recovered from her shock at seeing who had opened the door, stuffed her now-discharged Taser back in her pocket and put her hands on her hips. “And seriously, it took you long enough to get here!”

Bucky and Steve just silently surveyed the four unconscious men on the floor of the van. The driver appeared to be actually dead, at least from the awkward angle his head was sitting at.

“I’m thinkin’ you didn’t actually need us, doll,” Bucky said finally. “You seem to have been doin’ a pretty good job of rescuing yourself.”

Darcy snorted, hopping down from the van to the road. “Well, yes. Of course. But it was going to be such a pain restraining all these assholes, shoving that big guy out of the driver’s seat and then driving back. Now you two can do it.” She smiled sweetly up at Bucky, before turning away and walking off towards the quinjet.

“I think I’m in love,” Bucky said, making absolutely no effort to keep his voice down. Darcy clearly heard him, because she looked back over her shoulder and laughed before carrying on her way.

“What a woman,” Steve breathed finally, making Bucky chuckle, even as he scrambled into the van and pulled some cable ties from a pocket.

“Come on, Stevie. Sooner we deal with these mooks, sooner we can get to know her.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, still staring after the young woman now making her way inside the quinjet. “Uh, I’ll fly her back…”

“No, dibs!” Bucky yelled at that, and took off running after Darcy, leaving Steve to mutter rudely under his breath and bend to the task of restraining the prisoners.

“Jerk,” he might possibly have been a _little_ rougher than necessary when piling the unconscious men in the back. Possibly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stark would take any excuse to throw a party, and rescuing Thor’s lady love and her assistant from the clutches of villains was a perfectly good one in his book. Neither Bucky nor Steve minded since Darcy was guaranteed to be present. She was, however, the centre of attention, describing her self-rescuing princess act to a throng of devoted listeners who hung on her every word.

“So when Captain America and the Winter Soldier turned up, I thought they were more bad guys and I shot Cap’s shield with my Taser,” Darcy concluded her story, to a roar of laughter. She grinned, looking across the room to where the two men in question were standing. _Hot damn, but they both looked good tonight_ , she thought. They’d both looked pretty good that afternoon standing by the van, too.

Thinking they weren’t looking at her, she took her time letting her eyes rove up and down each tall, muscled form. She was pretty sure that Cap and his shadow were going to be featuring in her dreams tonight. At least, she hoped so.

Darcy was so busy enjoying the view she didn’t really notice the little crowd who’d been listening to her story drifting away. It wasn’t until she was alone that Steve and Bucky made their move, though, stalking up to her with predatory gaits and wide grins on their faces.

“So,” Steve said, his eyes wide and innocent, “are you going to eye fuck us all night, or do something about it?”

Darcy had just taken a sip of the drink in her hand; she promptly choked on it. Bucky patted her on the back, grinning.

“That was wicked, punk.”

“So’s the looks she was givin’ us,” Steve riposted. “Storin’ up eye candy for your spank bank, huh?”

Since that was exactly what Darcy had been doing, she shut her mouth on the sassy retort she’d been about to make, rethought her entire approach and smiled.

“Absolutely.” Insolently, she let her eyes rove up and down Steve’s body. “It’d be more useful with less clothes, though.”

“That could be arranged.” Steve’s lips stretched in a wicked grin. “What do you think, Buck? Should we give the lady a private show?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Bucky agreed, his lips tickling Darcy’s ear lightly as he leaned close to murmur, “Your place or ours, doll?”

“I’m guessing yours is closer,” she had to fight to keep her knees from buckling. Bucky seemed to know it, too, because he laughed softly in her ear, his arm wrapping firmly around her waist.

“Sure is. Let’s go then, doll, and you can thank us properly for at least _trying_ to rescue you this afternoon.”

That made Darcy chuckle. “I was pretty bamf, wasn’t I?”

“You certainly caught our attention,” Steve agreed, slotting in on her other side as they headed for the elevators. “Always did have a weakness for sassy brunettes.”

Bucky laughed, glancing over at Steve and winking. “ _Really?_ I hadn’t noticed!”


	85. Bucky/Darcy for vassel-legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 6** \- _"Why is there a tiger in here?" Bucky/Darcy for vassel-legacy_

“Bucky, you’re gonna crush her hand,” Steve warned gently, and Bucky took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his grip. Darcy looked so small lying there in the hospital bed, so still and pale.

“She’s gonna be alright, isn’t she, Stevie?” he almost pleaded.

“Dr. Cho says so,” Steve placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Darcy’s got a nasty ankle fracture but she’ll be back on her feet in a few weeks, you’ll see.”

“When I saw her fall down the stairs, I just - I - I was too slow to catch her, Stevie…” Bucky choked up.

“It was an accident, that’s all.” Steve hesitated before asking “How long have you been feelin’ like this - about Darcy?”

Bucky smiled ruefully. “Don’t exactly know. It crept up on me.”

“Does _she_ know?”

“Hasn’t a clue, I’m pretty sure. She’s too good for the likes of me.” Bucky shook his head.

“Well, I’m thinkin’ that should be her decision, not yours.” Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder again. “Just think about it, while you’re sittin’ here watchin’ her sleep like a total creeper.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Bucky said to Steve’s back as his friend departed.

“He didn’t even say _language_ ,” a drowsy voice made him look around to find Darcy regarding him from bleary blue eyes.

“Steve’s long since given up on my potty mouth,” Bucky said back, to make her smile. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” she asked vaguely.

“You fell down the stairs and broke your ankle. Dr Cho operated to pin it. You probably feel a bit woozy from the anaesthetic.”

“Oh,” Darcy smiled dreamily at him. “This is all just a dope dream, then, huh? Because you wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Yes, Darcy, I would be here. I’m gonna be here when you wake up again, too.”

“That’s nice. Why is there a tiger in the room?”

“What?” Bucky looked around quickly, but there was definitely no tiger. He followed Darcy’s gaze to the blank wall opposite the bed.

“He’s nearly as pretty as you. Pretty, pretty Bucky. Can I pet you? I don’t think the tiger wants to be petted, he’s snarly. You’re snarly too sometimes,” Darcy told him earnestly.

“I’ll try not to be snarly with you,” Bucky promised.

“Can I pet you then?” she asked again. “Since this is a dream.”

“It isn’t a dream, but yes, you can pet me.” She seemed to want to touch his hair, so he leaned down close, letting her stroke her fingers through it gently.

“Soft,” Darcy said dreamily. “I like it.”

“You can pet my hair whenever you want.”

Her fingers stilled, and Bucky looked up to find that Darcy’s eyes had drifted closed again. Gently, he took her hand back into his and pressed it to his lips. “Whenever you want,” he promised again, quietly.


	86. Bucky/Fitz/Steve for the-names-chnandler-bong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 7** \- _“You know I dream of you.” Bucky/Fitz/Steve for the-names-chnandler-bong_

Fitz shuffled the door open with his elbow and entered the lounge, not looking up from his tablet. Pushing the door closed with his foot, he headed over to his favourite chair and sat down, curling his legs up underneath him.

A slight sound made him glance up, and his mouth drop open.

 _Stucky_.

He had to blink several times because at first he thought he was seeing some sort of mirage. Even looked up towards the air vent to see if a gas was coming in and making him hallucinate.

No. No, Stucky was real. Still there on the couch, making out and quite clearly oblivious to his presence. Two magnificent supersoldiers, both shirtless, wrapped around each other kissing passionately, lean hips grinding, muscled bodies writhing.

Fitz knew he should look away. He also knew that he should leave, as quickly and quietly as possible. But considering the immediate, serious boner he’d popped, walking was going to be a very real problem. _Standing_ was going to be a problem. So he just sat there and stared incredulously, watching as Steve’s hand slid down inside Bucky’s jeans and wondering if it was actually possible to die of frustrated, humiliated lust.

He must have made some sound, a despairing squeak perhaps, because Steve suddenly jerked his head back and snapped it round to look at Fitz. Bucky immediately turned to look at him as well.

“I’m sorry,” Fitz squeaked, wanting to die of shame. “I didn’t mean to watch, I came in without looking and then I - I - you know, I dream of you two.” Humiliated at having blurted that out in his panic, he ducked his head.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, amused. “Do you just watch, in your dreams, or do we let you join in?”

“What?” Fitz’s head snapped up and he gaped, as Steve and Bucky untangled themselves and rose from the couch, both so easy and smooth in their movements, like a pair of giant predators. They approached him together, Steve reaching down to take his tablet from his nerveless hands and set it aside before Bucky somehow slid into the chair _with_ Fitz, scooping him easily into Bucky’s lap.

“Because Steve and I have definitely noticed you, oh cute little Scottish engineer,” Bucky’s arm slid around Fitz’s waist, his palm pressing down lightly on the agonising hardness inside Fitz’s pants. “And we’ve noticed you noticing _us_.”

“Oh,” Fitz discovered, suddenly relaxing, “this is _in_ a dream, isn’t it? That’s all right, then.”

“Don’t pinch him,” Steve told Bucky, grinning.

“But he’s got such pretty fair skin, it’d look lovely with a few pinch or bite marks,” Bucky pouted.

“Well, at least not until we’ve got him naked, then,” Steve compromised, going to his knees and pulling off Fitz’s shoes. “I’m interested to see if that blush is full-body.”

 _Definitely, he was dreaming_ , Fitz decided as Steve pulled his socks off too and Bucky started nuzzling at his throat, that firm palm slowly massaging over his arousal. _But goddamn, if it wasn’t the best dream of his life!_


	87. Steve/Darcy/Natasha for michellelynne87

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 10 -** “Eyes up now. Look at me.” Steve/Darcy/Natasha for michellelynne87
> 
> _I really hope you don’t mind filthy smutty smut, hon, because the gutter is straight where my brain went with this one. The whole thing is E rated, so do **not** read unless you’re prepared, peeps!_

Natasha was a true artist, Darcy couldn’t help but think as she walked around the room, studying the incredible work in the middle of the floor. She glanced admiringly at the redhead, who was sitting at her ease in a chair by the window, seemingly unconcerned about the man who’d been kneeling for an hour, awaiting their pleasure.

The only thing restraining Steve Rogers was a thin cotton rope, wound around his wrists and ankles in a complicated figure eight knot, bowing him backwards in what for any other man would have been a screamingly uncomfortable position. The supersoldier, though, hadn’t moved a muscle since Natasha gently tied off the rope, even though he could have torn free at any time with a single tug of his muscles.

A black silk blindfold covering Steve’s eyes, a ball gag in his mouth, and a thick leather collar around his neck would have completed the look more than enough to satisfy every one of Darcy’s fantasies for the rest of her life, but Natasha, as usual, had far exceeded her expectations.

Two thin leather leashes ran down from the collar, one down Steve’s spine and one between his magnificent pecs. The one down his back ran between his legs, pulled tight over his swollen balls, before both leashes connected to a cock ring seated snugly around the base of Steve’s frankly impressive arousal.

The leashes were perfectly taut. Darcy had to admire the precision of Natasha’s work; those leashes had to have been custom-made for Steve. The slightest movement would cause one or other of them to tug painfully at his cock ring.

“This is incredible, Nat,” Darcy turned away from Steve, headed over to her girlfriend. Bent to kiss her thoroughly.

“I thought you’d like it.” Gracefully, Natasha stood, a vision in a tight leather corset and thigh-high leather boots with spike heels. She traced a finger lightly over the lace barely covering Darcy’s full breasts before turning towards Steve. “So, shall we begin?”

“Definitely,” Darcy said eagerly, slipping her hand into Natasha’s. The Russian smiled, leading her back around in front of Steve. He’d begun trembling very slightly as he heard them speak, anticipation racing through him.

Letting go of Darcy’s hand and moving around behind Steve, Natasha stood astride his legs and put her hand into his thick blond hair, pulling him back towards her slightly. He moaned around the ball gag, but Darcy was well aware that it was from pleasure, as his cock engorged even further, pointing straight up at her.

“Take the blindfold off?” Darcy suggested. Natasha shrugged.

“If you’d like.”

“I think he should get to watch,” Darcy said.

Steve trembled again as Natasha let go of his hair and untied the knot in the blindfold. His blue eyes were glassy, unfocused, as Darcy reached down and caught hold of his chin.

“Eyes up now,” she said quietly. “Look at me.”

Steve blinked several times before his eyes seemed to come into focus and he made a slight questioning noise.

“That’s good. You feeling good, Steve? We’ve got a treat for you in a minute for being such a good boy.”

He made a slight sound, and Natasha sighed. “You want me to take the gag off?”

Darcy pretended to consider. “Yeah, all right. Why not? I can give him something to do with his mouth anyway.”

“Please, mistress,” were the first words Steve babbled when Natasha took the ball from his mouth. “Please.”

“Sshh,” Darcy placed a finger against his lips and Steve silenced instantly, wide-eyed with fear that he’d incurred her disapproval. “It’s all right, pet,” she smiled at him. “You used good words.”

Unthinking, Steve nodded, made urgent sounds in his throat as his leashes tugged on his cock ring, chafed over his aching balls.

Darcy petted his hair gently, smiling down at him. “Now, would you like a treat for being a good boy and waiting so nicely for me?”

Steve seemed to think about what response he should make for a few moments. Whether he should speak against the finger she still had pressed to his lips. In the end he decided that he probably shouldn’t, and nodded his head again. His eyes glazed over.

Natasha chuckled quietly behind him. “Give him his treat, Darcy.”

“All right then.” Darcy too was wearing spike heels, and they placed her at just the right height, when she stepped forward to straddle Steve’s bowed body, for his mouth to press against her thin lace panties. “That a treat you’d like, sweetie? Go on then.”

Steve moaned with delight, his mouth opening at once, dextrous tongue flicking out to scrape the lace aside and slurp greedily at Darcy’s pussy, thoroughly damp with arousal from finding this little scenario Natasha had set up for her.

Seeing Darcy’s pleased smile as Steve set eagerly to work, Natasha stepped close in behind Steve, pressing her stomach against the back of his head to push him harder against Darcy, before reaching out to put her arms around Darcy and kiss her.

Steve’s eyes rolled up to take in the spectacular view above him; the two women he loved more than life itself, kissing passionately above the two most amazing pairs of breasts he’d ever seen. He only had a moment to think _oh, shit_ before the orgasm he’d been fighting off for the previous hour wracked his body, his muscles jerking involuntarily, shredding the rope that had been binding him like paper, snapping the leashes attached to his collar as his seed splattered hotly against his own chest and abdomen.

Steve came back to awareness to find Darcy and Natasha standing over his prone body, both looking very disapproving. Darcy had a leather flogger in one hand, tapping the handle lightly against her thigh.

“You’ve been a very, very bad boy,” she said sternly. “You know we’re going to have to punish you for that.”

The firmly voiced words were all it took for Steve to get hard again. He moaned with a shameful delight and crawled forward to press his lips against the toe of Darcy’s shoe.


	88. Steve/Jemma/Bucky for artemisofthewildwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 10** \- _"I need one of those hugs that turns into sex." Steve/Jemma/Bucky for artemisofthewildwood_

“Baby,” it was Bucky who first heard the weary tread, who looked up to see Jemma coming into the room. He jumped to his feet. “How are you doing?”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to talk about how crappy my day has been. Thank you very much.”

Bucky and Steve shared a glance, and Steve headed straight for the kitchen to fetch a bottle of wine and a glass. By the time he returned, Bucky had Jemma settled on the sofa, had removed her shoes and was gently massaging her feet.

“You hungry, darling?” Steve asked, putting the glass of wine into Jemma’s hand. She looked up at him and smiled.

“No, I ate earlier.” Taking a long sip of wine, she sighed with pleasure. “Ahh. Ahh, that’s nice.”

Steve and Bucky both eyed her a little warily, uncertain of what they should do, though Bucky continued his gentle foot massage. Jemma took another long drink of the wine before leaning forward to set the glass down on the coffee table and saying “You know what I need?”

Both her soulmates looked at her expectantly.

“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.”

Steve looked startled; Bucky grinned.

“Oh, angel. We can do that. Any time you like.”

Within moments they were sitting on either side of her, nestling her into their warm, muscular bulk like the filling in an extremely buff sandwich. Strong hands stroked and petted, combing through her hair, massaging her neck, gently easing aside her clothes to tease over her skin. Steve’s warm mouth pressed slow kisses along Jemma’s collarbone as he unbuttoned her blouse; Bucky slid lower, pushing up the hem of the blouse and kissing her stomach, swirling his tongue lightly in her navel.

Jemma sighed with pleasure, slipping lower on the couch. Bucky unbuttoned her pants, tugged them gently down over her hips, hooking his thumbs in her knickers and pulling them down too. Steve already had her blouse off, her bra unhooked; he shifted sideways and drew Jemma, now nude, into his lap, wrapping his arms firmly around her to continue the hug - and, as his wrists crossed, settling his hands on her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples slowly.

Jemma smiled happily, relaxing back into Steve’s embrace. “Now _that’s_ what I call a hug,” she murmured.

“Even better, lucky you with two lovers, he can keep on hugging you while I rock your world,” Bucky said with a wicked grin, slipping to kneel at Steve’s feet. With Jemma’s legs spread over Steve’s thighs, as Steve parted his knees for Bucky to kneel between them, she was spread wide open to Bucky’s gaze.

Jemma just smiled and closed her eyes, turning her head to rub her cheek against Steve’s shoulder. She hummed softly with delight as Bucky’s tongue traced gently along her inner thigh, his stubble lightly rasping on the tender skin. Just as he reached the apex of her thighs, Steve’s thumbs flicked hard over her peaked nipples.

Bucky grinned as Jemma moaned and jolted in Steve’s embrace; she couldn’t go anywhere, though, not with those powerful arms locked around her and Bucky’s arms over her thighs, holding them down. She was trapped there between them, not going anywhere until they said so, and Bucky had no intention of letting her move until he’d drawn some of that tension from her body.

Making his tongue into a point, Bucky flicked it lightly at the tip of Jemma’s clit, just catching the tiny organ with each pass, easing back the hood with light pressure from both his thumbs on either side.

Jemma moaned his name, reached down to run her fingers into his hair. Steve moved his hands slightly to catch her nipples between finger and thumb, tugging on them lightly. She moaned his name too and shivered, her hips shifting, grinding back against what Bucky suspected was a very impressive erection Steve was pressing against her ass. Having Jemma like this, naked and needy while they were both still fully dressed, was a powerful turn-on for Bucky too, but he was determined that she would get to come first before either of them even thought of taking their pleasure.

Bucky’s tongue stroked and flicked, drawing the tension from Jemma’s muscles and converting it to a different kind of tension as she squirmed and moaned in Steve’s firm hold. His tugging pressure on her nipples combined with the steady lap of Bucky’s tongue combined to draw Jemma quickly up to that razor edge of pleasure, and they lost no time in tipping her over it, leaving her gasping and shaking, still held in the warm embrace of Steve’s arms.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky moved up to press his lips against her brow, stroke back her hair, leaning against her front to keep her warm between them. “What you needed?”

“Perfection,” Jemma sighed happily.

“Good.” Steve stroked his hands down her arms. “Always gonna take care of you, angel.”

“Hmm?” she wiggled her hips a little against the hardness poking into her back. “Something _you_ need taking care of, darling?”

“It can wait,” Steve disclaimed. “You’re tired.”

“Not _that_ tired,” she arched her neck to smirk up at him.

“Well, in that case,” Steve nudged Bucky back gently and stood, easily lifting Jemma with him, “let’s take this to the bedroom, shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Bucky quipped, deliberately pinching Steve’s ass as he passed, making Steve let out a startled squeak and Jemma laugh happily, the weariness and bad mood that had been plaguing her gone as though it had never existed.


	89. Steve/Clint/Darcy, for huskiesfan-olicity-wintershock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 10 -** _“Anticipation makes the hard-on longer.” Steve/Clint/Darcy, for huskiesfan-olicity-wintershock_
> 
> _Apparently everyone with an August 10 birthday triggers my brain into BDSM mode. I’m not sorry._

It was a very, very pretty sight, there at the end of her bed. Honestly Darcy probably didn’t really need her toys, but her boys appreciated them, she knew they did. She could tell. It was written all over them, from the bright red flush all over Steve’s face and chest, to the way Clint was biting on his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed.

Tiring of the bullet vibe she was playing with, Darcy switched it off and threw it negligently aside before selecting another toy. The butt plug _was_ something she would need, actually; the way both boys were shaking where they stood, she was pretty sure that once she gave them the release command, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of foreplay happening before she got very thoroughly DPd. Smiling with anticipation at the thought, she coated the plug with lube before slowly, carefully inserting it.

Clint groaned, sweat standing out on his forehead as Darcy’s breath hissed out. “Yeah, better make sure that’s the biggest one you got, sweetheart. You’re gonna need to be _wide_ open.”

“Darn right, because it’s _my_ turn to have that beautiful ass,” Steve elbowed Clint.

Clint shrugged, eyes glued to Darcy as she finished seating the butt plug with a little moan and reached for another toy. “Don’t mind. Just as long as she don’t make us wait too long.”

“Now, now,” Darcy said, choosing her favourite rabbit-eared vibrator, “anticipation makes the hard-on longer.”

“It certainly fucking does,” Clint muttered, staring ravenously. Steve was too engrossed to even reproach him for his language.

Smiling, Darcy inserted the vibrator, switched it to a gentle buzz and lay back, gazing at the two men standing at the end of her bed. Back to back, they both had their hands cuffed behind their back, the two pairs of cuffs linked through each other to secure them together. It was a quite delightful pose that emphasized the muscularity of both men. And, not incidentally, gave her an excellent view in silhouette of a pair of extremely erect cocks, both of which she was going to get to take.

 _Soon_.

Reaching up, she began to play with her breasts, tugging and tweaking at her nipples. She’d have closed her eyes if she was alone, maybe used a little fantasy, but the best fantasy she’d ever had was standing right there at the foot of her bed, just dying to fuck her senseless. Gazing her fill, Darcy moaned as she felt the familiar tingle at the base of her spine beginning; squeezed her legs tighter together to pull the vibe ears harder against her clit.

“Nearly there, boys,” she panted. “Nearly there…”

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Clint urged.

“Eager, eager,” Darcy chided, but she knew why. They knew her rules. When they were playing this game, neither of them was allowed to move until she’d given herself at least one orgasm. Once she gave them the release command, Steve would tear out of the cuffs they were both wearing like so much paper and they’d be on her - but until then, they just had to watch. With a happy sigh, she reached down to turn her vibrator up a notch. “Soon,” she purred when Steve moaned desperately. “Soon.”


	90. Skye/Logan for millaraysuyai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 10** - _"Why? You asshole!" Skye/Logan for millaraysuyai_
> 
> _ANOTHER smutty one. What the hell is it about August 10, guys?_

“Oh my god, Logan, _why_? You asshole!” Skye wailed, looking down at the shreds of her brand new dress lying around her feet.

“Didn’t like it,” Logan growled.

“Are you _pouting_?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Wait. Is this because of Stark?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Logan muttered a bit sheepishly, looking away from her furious gaze.

“I’m pretty damn sure that Stark looks at everything with a pulse as though he’s considering undressing them!” She stepped forward, poked a small finger hard into the middle of his chest. “You jealous ass!”

“I’ll buy you a new dress,” Logan mumbled.

“Goddamn right you will!” Skye wasn’t in the least mollified by his _aw-shucks_ act. Seeing the look on her face, Logan dropped to his knees before her, looked up at her through his lashes.

“What could I do to make it up to you, baby?”

Seeing him kneeling there like that completely short-circuited her brain. She stared down at him for a moment, lips parted with surprise. “Um. Um, okay, take your clothes off…”

A single rip removed his shirt, revealing his thickly muscled torso. His pants fared no better, leaving him nude amid the rags of their clothing. Shuffling forward on his knees, Logan pressed a kiss to her thigh. Another one, an inch higher. A third, right over the lacy panties he hadn’t sliced off along with her dress.

“I want to keep these,” Skye warned, and he sighed and reached up to tug them down gently. Before they were halfway down her thighs, though, he was nuzzling into her cleft, tongue flicking out to swipe over her clit.

“Mm,” Skye’s hands knotted into his tufted hair as her panties fell to the floor. Lifting one leg, she swung it over his shoulder, pressing her heel into his back, urging him to go deeper with his tongue. Logan was more than happy to oblige, his hands curving up and around her thighs to hold her steady, pulling her harder against his mouth as his tongue worked up into her pussy.

Skye couldn’t hold in the moan as she slumped against his hold; Logan had no intention of letting her go, though, bracing her firmly as he licked and slurped, intent on making her forget, at least temporarily, about the expensive dress he’d destroyed in his fit of jealousy.


	91. Victor/Daisy for afrikasisi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** August 10  ** \-  _“I’m holding your hand because the movie is scary, all right? It’s a… terrifying… rom-com.” Victor/Daisy for afrikasisi_

Daisy was pretty surprised when Victor came into the room just as she was settling down to watch the movie. “I’ve had a crappy day,” she warned, spoon posed above her tub of ice cream, “and I am  _ watching  _ this movie.” 

“Okay,” he side-eyed her, shrugged. “Got nothing better to do. Whatcha watchin’?”

“The Princess Bride,” Daisy said around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Never heard of it.”

“Never… okay, are you in for a  _ treat _ . This is the best movie  _ ever made _ ,” Daisy said enthusiastically, patting the seat beside her. “Come sit down.”

“You gonna share that ice cream?”

“No. Get your own.”

He had to chuckle at the fierce way she clutched the tub to her, but he knew there was plenty more in the freezer. “Okay. Pause it?”

She smiled happily. “Will do.”

Victor returned a couple of minutes later, settled onto the couch beside her with a bowl held in one large paw. He curled like a cat, Daisy noted from the corner of her eye, tucking his long legs up beneath him neatly. She half-expected him to lap at the creamy treat on his spoon, but he ate it just like she did, finishing and putting the bowl on the table, settling in to watch the movie quietly.

It was a little while later when Daisy felt a large, warm hand curl gently around hers. A little startled - her boyfriend wasn’t the most touchy-feely person in the world - she glanced sideways at Victor, only to find him apparently absorbed in the movie, his eyes riveted to the screen. Leaning forward slightly, his lips slightly parted, he appeared almost ready to leap at the screen. She couldn’t help a giggle.

“What?” Victor’s attention snapped back to her, and then he suddenly seemed to become aware of their linked hands. “What?”

“You can hold my hand if you want to,” Daisy said with a grin.

“I… I’m holding your hand because the movie is scary, all right? It’s a… terrifying… romantic comedy… fantasy… thing.” He hadn’t let go of her hand, and he was still side-eyeing the TV screen. She suddenly clicked what was bothering him.

“You don’t like the Rodents Of Unusual Size!”

Victor’s lip curled very slightly, a faint growl shivering in the air.

Daisy had to laugh, tightening her small fingers around his large ones. “Don’t worry, kitty cat. I won’t let the nasty giant rats get you.”

This time he did growl, looking away from the TV and at her. “This kitty cat is gonna get  _ you  _ for that, missy.”

She squealed and tried to dive away as he pounced, but his reflexes were ridiculously fast and he caught her easily, pinning her beneath him on the couch. His feral eyes gleamed down at her, and he licked his lips slowly. Suddenly, Daisy was shockingly, fiercely aroused, but Victor made no move to kiss her.

“Victor, kiss me,” she begged desperately.

He smiled, slowly, and bent his head. Just before their lips met, he whispered “As you wish.”


	92. Jemma/Bucky for i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 11** \- _“Thank god I’m wearing gloves, because you’re too hot to handle.” Jemma/Bucky for i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you_

Bucky wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected when he kicked down the last door separating him from the scientist he was there to rescue, but it really wasn’t to find said scientist attempting to jump him and stab a syringe into his neck.

He caught her hand reflexively, swatting the syringe out of it, and was just about to grab her by the throat when he registered the wide hazel eyes, the wavy light brown hair, and realized who she was.

“Agent Simmons.”

“Let go of me - oh. You’re Sergeant Barnes.”

He winced. “Just call me Bucky. I’m here to rescue you.” Looking around the lab, he raised his eyebrows, impressed. It appeared the little scientist had been doing quite a good job of rescuing herself. There were at least three unconscious men in his view. At least, he thought they were unconscious.

“What was in that syringe?”

Jemma winced. “Potassium chloride…”

“You don’t mess about, do you?” Looking down at her, Bucky grinned encouragingly; she didn’t look happy that she’d killed three men, but considering what they would have done to her, he was more than pleased that she’d found it within her to do so. Pretending to blow on the gloved fingers of his right hand, he teased; “Thank God I’m wearing gloves, because you’re too hot to handle!”

Jemma giggled at his foolishness, as he reached for her hand and led her through the base. Looking around a little nervously as they walked, she asked; “It’s safe?”

“It’s quite safe. I’ll have you back with your friends in no time.” Gently, he squeezed on her fingers. “You’re quite safe with me. I promise.” Her hand felt very tiny in his, and Bucky realised she was shaking, weak, maybe too much so to walk far. He stopped walking, and realised just how close to the end of her reserves Jemma was as she panicked.

“What, what is it?” she snatched her hand from his and cowered back against the wall, looking around desperately.

“Agent Simmons. Jemma,” Bucky used her first name, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s perfectly safe. It’s just, you kinda look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I rather feel as though I might,” she confessed.

“Will you let me carry you?”

“Oh. Oh, I - well, I suppose so…” she barely had time to finish speaking before he’d scooped her easily into his arms.

“We’ve got a ways to go,” Bucky said, trying to ignore the soft scent rising from her hair to tantalise him, the way she curled against him and slipped her slender arms around his neck. “Just hang on to me, Jemma. I’ll get you out of here.”


	93. Hunter/Bobbi/Clint/Nat for laughingpillow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 15 -** _"Finally, a bed big enough for all of us. how about we test it out?" Hunter/Bobbi/Clint/Nat for the-mcm-duo (laughingpillow on Ao3)_
> 
> _Smut was requested and has been delivered. NSFW, folks!_

“And this,” Natasha said with a grin as they approached the doors, “was the only good thing about Budapest.”

“Too true,” Clint agreed from the back of the group. “But it was _very_ good, wasn’t it, babe?”

Natasha shot him a _do not call me babe again if you want to live_ look. Clint grinned at her unrepentantly. She shook her head with a wry little smile and swiped the keycard through the door.

“Oh, wow,” Bobbi said as they entered the hotel suite. “Yeah, you’re right, this is pretty nice.”

“Finally,” Hunter said in tones of sheer delight, dropping the bag he had slung over his shoulder to the floor and stepping forward with arms outstretched. “Fucking _finally_. A bed big enough for all of us!”

“How about we test it out?” Clint nudged him in the back teasingly, and Hunter spun around.

“Don’t mind if I do,” hooking an arm around Clint’s waist, he took a few quick steps back, pulling Clint back with him until they both toppled onto the enormous bed, laughing.

Natasha laughed quietly, watching as the two men started play-wrestling, not so incidentally pulling each other’s jackets and shirts off in the process. “Coming to join us, love?” she called to Bobbi, who’d gone to the window to look at the beautiful view of the river.

Bobbi turned to see Natasha shimmying out of her dress, and the two men entwined and shirtless on the bed, kissing fiercely. “The view’s pretty good,” she replied with a smile.

“Inside or outside the window?” Natasha posed deliberately, one hand on her hip, knowing very well how she looked in the nude. The effect was somewhat spoiled by Hunter snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her over backwards onto the bed, though. She fell on top of him and Clint with a laugh, and Bobbi couldn’t resist.

“Shame to waste all that space.” Shrugging out of her jacket, she pulled her shirt off. “Get those boots off the bed though, boys. I’m not rolling around in whatever’s been on the bottom of your shoes.”

There was only minor grumbling, but since they got to watch Bobbi wiggling out of her skintight jeans while they removed their boots and socks, neither man really minded all that much. Not with Natasha helping them undress by unbuttoning their pants, clever fingers sliding over sensitive skin, her teeth leaving an imprint in Hunter’s shoulder that made him moan loudly and tangle his bootlace so badly Clint had to lean over to help. He looked up to find Bobbi’s crotch level with his face, though, and promptly forgot about helping Hunter.

Bobbi chuckled and swung one long leg up onto the bed, putting her foot beside Clint’s hip. “See something you want, Hawkeye?”

Clint didn’t even bother to reply, just diving in face first to lick a long stripe up Bobbi’s slender thigh and right into her pussy. She hummed with pleasure and threaded her fingers into his hair to hold him close, just where she wanted him.

Hunter finally managed to get his boot off when Natasha abandoned him temporarily to come over and kneel beside Clint, leaning in to lick and suckle on one of Bobbi’s breasts while she reached a hand to play with the other one.

Finally naked, Hunter just stared for a moment, undecided about where he wanted to play before making his mind up and pressing his face into Clint’s lap.

Clint groaned against Bobbi’s clit as Hunter’s hot, wet mouth enveloped his cock, root to tip. It was impossible to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing with that going on, especially when Natasha traced her hand down his spine and into his crack, playing lightly with his hole, dragging a sharp fingernail over the puckers.

“Your turn to be on the bottom,” she whispered hotly into his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“Oh, no,” Clint said, completely insincerely, “how absolutely terrible.”

Bobbi laughed and put her hands to his shoulders, shoving him over backwards onto the bed. “Get in the middle, Barton. Let’s make some use of the space. Last time you were on the bottom, you damn near bucked me into the wall.”

“I can’t help it if my thigh muscles are too magnificent for you,” Clint protested, wiggling backwards towards the middle of the bed, if not without some difficulty since Hunter was being extremely tenacious about sucking on his cock. “Jeez, Lance, give a guy a _hnnnnggghhh_.”

“A finger, was that?” Natasha asked with interest. “Looks like he’s given you two, actually.”

“He’s such a bad boy,” Bobbi said fondly, reaching under Hunter to grab onto his cock with her long fingers, finding it more than satisfactorily hard. “Aren’t you?” she smacked Hunter’s ass with her free hand, making him jump, which caused Clint to squawk as Hunter’s fingers rammed a bit deeper than he’d intended.

“Oh, shush,” Natasha admonished. Glancing back at Hunter, she grinned at Bobbi. “It’s nice when their mouths are too busy to talk, huh?”

Hunter looked like he was about to pull off to protest at that, at least until Bobbi tightened her grip. His eyes glazed over.

“You like my smart mouth,” Clint protested.

“I like it a lot better when it’s put to the purpose I like best,” Natasha answered him, crawling up the bed and kneeling down astride his head, facing down towards the other two. “So shut up and get that clever tongue to work.”

He didn’t need urging, in fact eagerly reached up to grasp her thighs and pull her down on his face. Bobbi and Hunter both stopped what they were doing to watch the gorgeous sight of Natasha reaching up to cup and stroke her own breasts, her head tipped back with pleasure as Clint’s tongue worked over her clit.

“Oh, wow,” Bobbi sighed. “God. Hunter, sorry, but you’re gonna have to get off Clint’s cock because I want to sit on it. I’m so turned on watching that.”

Hunter lifted his head, letting Clint’s cock slide slowly out of his mouth, revealing just how thickly engorged it was. “You and me both, darlin’,” he muttered, gazing. “Grab that pillow while I get some lube? I’m gonna ream this beautiful ass but we probably need him to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Bobbi smiled, and by the time Hunter had returned from rooting quickly through his bag she already had the pillow tucked under Clint’s lean hips and was sitting astride them, her slender hips rolling as she drew his cock deep into her body, her hands reaching out to take over touching Natasha’s breasts. Smiling at her, Natasha reached up to thumb over Bobbi’s nipples too before the two women kissed, slow and passionate.

Hunter was so desperate to join in he probably wasn’t as gentle and careful as he could have been, but Clint didn’t seem to care about the hasty way in which Hunter stretched him out with some lube before ramming to the hilt in his ass, not considering the way his hips bucked up and the frantic sounds he started making with his mouth against Natasha.

“That’s it,” Natasha said breathlessly, tearing her mouth from Bobbi’s briefly, “give it to him good, Hunter. Fuck him hard.”

“Uh-huh,” Bobbi agreed, bouncing pretty hard herself. “Yup. Yup, hard. Mm hm.” She sought Natasha’s mouth again with her own, both women panting as they pleasured themselves with each other’s hands and on Clint’s tongue and cock. Hunter might almost have felt left out except for the fact that Clint’s thighs were tugging at his hips, pulling him even deeper in his thrusts, Clint’s ass tightening around his cock until Hunter nearly saw stars.He gripped Clint’s muscled thighs tightly, looking down to see Bobbi’s gorgeous bottom bouncing above Clint’s swollen balls, above the root of Hunter’s own cock thrust deep into Clint’s ass.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned, “that’s just too good, uh, _shit_ yeah!”

Everyone else’s mouth was busy, so it was only Hunter’s shouts of pleasure that echoed off the walls as he came deep inside his male soulmate, Clint’s own body contracting with pleasure around him as his hips lifted off the bed.

Bobbi moaned into Natasha’s mouth as Clint’s cock swelled and spurted inside her; Natasha gasped in returning pleasure, tugging at Bobbi’s nipples until the blonde almost sobbed with the pleasure/pain of it, writhing on Clint’s still-firm cock as her own orgasm hit. It only took Clint a few more moments to bring Natasha to the brink with his mouth, and then all four of them collapsed limply to the bed in a pile of tangled, sweating, muscled limbs.

“I approve of the bed,” Hunter mumbled drowsily, nestled between Natasha and Clint. Bobbi, lying on Clint’s chest, turned her head to look at him.

“Me too. Wonder if we could get one at home?”


	94. Tony/Skye for arrowsbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 16** \- _"You and I would have really attractive children" Tony/Skye for arrowsbane_

“ _This_ is the hacker who cracked SI?” Tony stared from Coulson, to Skye, and back again. “This… _child_?”

“Hey!” Skye snapped. “At my age you were… well, you were being a drunken playboy, actually, while Obadiah Stane did his best to steal your company out from under you. Natch.” She blew a gum bubble at him and smirked.

Tony was actually shocked speechless for the first time in years. He stared at Skye, mouth hanging slightly open.

“ _No,_ Tony,” Phil said, recognising the look on the billionaire’s face. “Skye is _ours_.”

“We can absolutely negotiate that later, Agent,” Tony slung an arm around Skye’s shoulders. “Right now I just want to show Teenage Hacker here around the Tower. I have the most amazing setup on the sixty-ninth floor, you’re going to love it,” he told Skye, leading her to the elevators.

“Why am I not surprised it’s the sixty-ninth floor, and stop calling me a teenager. I’m twenty-six.”

“Really?” He’d dropped his arm from around her shoulders as soon as they entered the elevator, stepped back to maintain a polite distance. He gave her an appreciative eyeball up and down now. “We should definitely talk about the possible benefits of you becoming an SI employee. We don’t have a code against fraternisation like SHIELD do. Just for example.”

She had to laugh. At the same time, Tony’s nearness, his charisma, was absolutely knee-melting. “I’m sure you pay better, too.”

“Absolutely, but the potential benefits of getting to date your boss far outweigh any mere monetary reward,” Tony said with a slightly manic grin. Running his eyes up and down her again, he tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. “You know… you and I would have really attractive children. Smart, too. Tiny brilliant hacker genius engineers.”

Skye’s eyes widened before she burst out laughing. “I think you’re getting a _tiny_ bit ahead of yourself,” she finally managed to get out. “You didn’t even ask me on a date yet!”

The elevators pinged open and Tony gestured her out, grinning. “Do I need to? After all, I was thinking that I’d just seduce you with my equipment.”

Skye looked around, mouth agape. She’d never seen so many computers, such advanced technology, not even in SHIELD. “Holy crap.”

“You hacked this,” Tony said, “with a laptop that Agent said you won in a bet.”

Skye smirked, recovering from her shock. “I hacked SHIELD with it first. Hacking SI was my audition for SHIELD, as it were.”

Tony gazed at her, raptly adoring. “You do realise that I’m already hopelessly in love with you.”

Skye very deliberately flicked her hair and gave him an arch look. “Join the queue, Mr Stark!”


	95. Rumlow/Rollins/Daisy for silverrain323

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 16 -** _"Stop comparing me to superman." Rumlow/Rollins/Daisy for silverrain323_

“It’s a bird!”

“It’s a plane!”

“No, it’s…” Jack’s words were cut off by the well-aimed shoe Daisy threw at his head. He ducked, laughing.

“Stop comparing me to Superman, you dolts!” she folded her arms and scowled at the pair of them.

“Sweetheart, you’re the only person we know who can fly,” Brock pointed out with a grin. “And that was a very dramatic swoop this afternoon in the nick of time to save my ass from that crazed scientist’s killer robots.”

Daisy had to smile. “I like your ass. I prefer it in one piece.”

“Just call me Lois Lane, I’ll be your damsel in distress any time,” feigning a dramatic swoon into Jack’s arms, Brock grinned at Daisy.

“You are an idiot,” she found herself laughing, as Jack hauled Brock upright, shaking his head at their soulmate’s antics. They both came forward, reaching to envelop her in strong arms, pressing their lips lightly against her forehead. She clung to them in return, all of them aware that the tight embrace was because of their mutual fear. If Daisy had been a fraction slower to react, Brock could easily have been seriously wounded or even killed that afternoon. Even so, it had been far too close a call for both of them, and Jack held them particularly tightly, until Daisy started to wiggle, complaining that he was crushing her ribs.

“Oh hush, you ain’t no fragile flower,” Jack said, but he loosened his grip. Only for Daisy to twist in his arms and leap agilely up, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Grinning, Brock shifted around him, slid his hands under the hem of Jack’s T-shirt and began to massage his lower back gently.

“I know we scared you this afternoon,” Daisy said, in between pressing light kisses along Jack’s jawline. “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“Anything you like,” Brock kissed Jack’s shoulder. “Anything at all.”

A slow smile spread across Jack’s face. “Well, now. There’s an offer I definitely won’t refuse.”


	96. Loki/May for neonsheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 16** \- _"Is that a challenge?" Loki/May for neonsheep_
> 
> From the [_You Called?_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/7566971) ‘verse.
> 
> (I just realised that this ship should be called MayTricks. Matrix, geddit???)

 

“I do not think that is wise, my heart,” Loki’s hand wrapped around the glass May was just lifting to her lips and removed it firmly.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she scowled indignantly up at him.

“It is one of the glasses Thor just poured Asgardian mead into for those foolish enough to wish to try it.”

“I _know_ , that’s why I’m drinking it,” May tried to snatch it back. “Who are you calling foolish?”

Loki hesitated, not dim enough to fall for that one. “Dearest, Asgardian mead is not meant for mortal man.”

A small finger poked firmly into the centre of his chest, before being flipped over to point at its owner. “Not. Mortal. _Man_.”

He was still grappling with how to get out of _that_ particular verbal pit trap when May swept the glass nimbly out of his hand.

“That is a terrible idea,” Loki tried one more time to dissuade her.

“Is that a _challenge_?” She smirked at him and downed the contents in a single gulp. “Hmm.” She looked him straight in the eye, setting the empty glass back into his hand. “Not bad.”

It occurred to Loki then that he’d never actually seen his soulmate in the throes of intoxication. It might be quite fascinating. At least she was light enough to be no burden in carrying her back to their rooms. And if she picked a fight she couldn’t win - which wasn’t likely, because she was Melinda May - he could always teleport her out of there. Setting the glass down on a nearby table, he followed in her wake as she spun on her heel and set off in an arrow-straight line across the room.

To the elevator, it transpired. Where she poked the Down button and turned to him with a certain light in her glorious dark eyes which it took Loki a good few seconds to recognise, concerned for her health as he was. The elevator doors pinged open just as he clued in.

“Oh,” was all he managed before she grabbed the front of his shirt and towed him into the elevator car with her, pushing him up against the wall and climbing nimbly up his long form to wrap herself around him before the doors had even closed. “I see that Asgardian mead makes you amorous, my heart.”


	97. Daisy/Victor for valin-dana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 15-21 (17)** \- _"I'm not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine" Daisy/Victor for valin-dana_
> 
> _Valin-dana didn’t want to put her exact birthday out on the Internetz, which is completely fine. She just asked for me to publish it somewhere between the 15th and 21st. I picked the 17th because I had no other birthdays scheduled for the date. Happy birthday, darling, whenever exactly it is!_
> 
> _Anyway, because why the hell not, I decided to play with an ABO AU. I apologise in advance to anyone who doesn’t like the trope. There’s smut!_

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jemma asked quietly. “You really should go to an Omega Center.”

“It’ll be fine,” Daisy claimed. “There aren’t that many Alphas on base, and they’re all bonded anyway, or not strong enough to try and claim me...”

“Except Victor,” Jemma folded her arms and gave Daisy a direct look. “Or have you deliberately forgotten that the strongest Alpha we’ve ever met is due back on the same day you’re due to go into your once-yearly mandated heat?”

“I didn’t forget,” Daisy said, and it was absolutely true. She hadn’t forgotten anything about Victor, not from the very first day she’d met him and the _scent_ of him had washed over her, almost making her dizzy. He’d turned to look at her not a second later, his eyes narrowing; but he’d said nothing. A few times since he’d made it clear that he was interested, but she’d deflected him by simply telling him that she was on suppressants. Wasn’t ready to mate.

Perhaps she’d known the very first time she saw him what he would be to her, though, Daisy mused as she drifted back through the base towards her room, touching things as she passed, knowing that her scent on them, the scent of an Omega on the verge of heat, would inflame any Alpha who passed by.

Her room was all ready. She’d been preparing for weeks, knowing subconsciously all along that she wasn’t going to an Omega Center. That she would stay right here, where Victor would find her. Where he would come to her.

The first knock on her door came an hour later. She opened up the tiny panel in the centre of the Alpha-proof door and found herself staring at Bobbi.

“Um,” Bobbi shuffled her feet awkwardly, “Daisy, are you OK? I picked up your scent, and you know I’m bonded to Hunter, so you can trust me if you need me to stand guard…”

“Thank you,” Daisy said, genuinely touched. “It’s OK.”

Bobbi inhaled. “Ah,” she said after a moment. “You’re waiting for Victor.”

Of course, Bobbi would figure it out. Victor was the only Alpha stronger than she was on the whole base. There was no point in trying to prevaricate, so Daisy just nodded.

“I see,” Bobbi said. “Well. I daresay you won’t have any trouble then, and frankly I don’t want to get into a fight with him.” Her nostrils swelled slightly. “I’d say, have a good heat, but from the scent of you it’s going to be a tough one, so just… be safe. Your scent’s pretty powerful already, Daisy. He’ll be in rut by the time he gets here. Fuck off, Agent Hanley,” she didn’t even bother to look around. “You’re not strong enough to bond her anyway, and Victor Creed’s coming. He’ll kill any unbonded Alpha outside her door when he gets here, so if you value your life you’ll be far, far away by then.”

Daisy didn’t see the other Alpha; just heard a gasp and the sound of hastily running feet. “Thanks, Bobbi,” she said.

“You’re welcome. Got all the supplies you need?”

“Yeah.” Daisy ducked her head. “Hunter helped me stock up.”

Bobbi’s smile was warm. “He’s a good Omega. Knows how to ride out a tough heat. And a rutting Alpha.”

“He gave me some tips.”

Bobbi’s head snapped around then, and she backed away from the door, hands spread in a conciliatory, unthreatening gesture. “Creed, just checking she has what she needs. You know I’m bonded.”

“Get away from her.” The voice was barely recognisable as human, a low, vicious snarl. “She’s _mine_.”

Daisy’s knees started to shake as Bobbi backed out of her view. The small panel in the door went completely dark then, and she realised Victor had put his back to the door. He stood still for about a minute, just emanating the hot scent of a powerful Alpha in full rut. Anyone who even _thought_ about approaching her door in the next few days would be overcome with a terrified urge to run away as fast as possible.

Daisy closed the panel with trembling fingers. By the time Victor knocked on her door, she’d stripped off every stitch of clothing she was wearing and flung it all aside. Slick was already beginning to slide down her inner thighs in anticipation; he’d be able to scent it even through the door, she knew.

“Daisy,” his voice was a low rumble. “I’m here.”

He didn’t ask her to open the door. He already knew that she would, knew as well as she did why she’d chosen to remain here for her heat instead of going to the safety of an Omega Center. They’d been watching each other for months, Victor making wary advances, Daisy neither accepting nor declining them. He’d had to fight down the urge to rub his scent on her more than once, to mark _his_ territory so that no other Alpha would dare approach her. Now, it seemed, she was finally ready to accept him - and yet the door remained closed. He put his hand on the cool steel.

“Daisy.”

“I’m scared,” he heard her whisper through the door.

Victor shut his eyes, tried to breathe shallowly. Her scent was maddening, making him want to scream and claw at the door, _demand_ she let him in. He knew too much about the Alpha who’d once tried to force her into a bond, though. “I’m not _him_. This is your choice, Daisy. If you don’t want me here, say so.”

There was a moment of silence before the soft rattle of bolts being drawn back. Victor made himself wait until she opened the door, forced himself not to just barge in on her even though his instincts were screaming at him.

Daisy instinctively stepped back, moving away from the door as Victor entered the room. He cast one quick glance at her before turning back to secure the door again. He looked huge in her room, his imposing height meaning he towered over her anyway, the thick coat and heavy boots he was wearing making him look bigger still. His scent poured over her, like hot water searing her. Sweat sheened her skin as she backed up further, scared and shockingly aroused both at the same time.

Victor shrugged his coat off his shoulders and dropped it behind him as he trod slowly forward, never taking his eyes from Daisy. His shirt was next, ripped cleanly off his body and flung aside. She gasped, eyes wide; and he snarled, the corners of his lips lifting up to show his sharp canine teeth, as her scent grew even more intense.

“I can almost _taste_ you on the air,” he whispered harshly. “So sweet.”

He was deep in rut, big body quivering with barely suppressed violence, and Daisy recognised with some panic that she’d driven him to this. That she had to show him submission, and quickly, before his instincts overtook him completely. Without even thinking, she dipped her fingers between her legs, gathering slick on her fingertips, held them up towards him.

“Taste, then,” she whispered.

Victor’s huge hand curled around her wrist, his feral eyes locked with hers as he bent his head; but his grip was gentle and she didn’t feel his teeth at all as his tongue swiped over her fingers, sucking them slowly into his mouth. He hummed softly around them with pleasure, his other arm coming up to wrap around her waist, lift her easily into the air. He lifted her high, until her head was higher than his, before pressing his face against her neck and breathing in her scent.

“Mine.” The softly voiced word was accompanied by the lightest possible prick of his teeth against her throat, but Daisy went utterly limp against him, able only to think about how much she wanted him to bite her properly, to sink his teeth in deep into the sensitive flesh, to take her for his own.

“Please,” she whimpered, and his arm tightened around her, his teeth pressing in a little harder before he spoke again.

“I’m an all or nothing kind of guy, Daisy, you know that. I’m gonna knot you, I’m gonna bond you, I’m gonna _breed_ you. If that ain’t what you want, you better tell me now.” Victor highly doubted that he’d be able to stop even if she told him to, not now he’d had a taste of her. But then, he was also pretty damn sure that he and Daisy had been headed for this all along, and that she’d made her mind up months ago.

Beyond speech, all she could do in answer was put her arms around his neck and cling to him, trying to pull his face harder against her neck. Victor snarled hungrily, stepping forward before lowering her to the bed, soft and thickly piled with cushions and blankets. At least one of them smelled like him, making him smile approvingly. She’d raided his quarters at some point.

“Everything in this room’s gonna smell like me when I’m done,” he growled, releasing her and straightening up. “Especially _you_. Every Alpha you ever meet’s gonna be too scared to come near you, ever again.”

Eyes glazed over with lust, Daisy watched as he stooped to unlace his boots, stripped out of the rest of his clothes. His cock was jutting thick and proud, leaking a little at the tip. Desperate now as her heat rushed over her, making her skin prickle with need, she parted her legs invitingly and made a hopeful little whine in her throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Victor growled in a voice that was no longer even remotely human, and then he was on her, flipping her to her front and pulling her up to her knees. “Mine,” he snarled against her neck, powerful body curving around hers as he bent over her. “I’m gonna take you, I’m gonna scent you, I’m gonna mark you up - not gonna stop leaving marks until everyone knows you’re _mine_.”

Daisy screamed with pleasure as his teeth met in her throat, shoving her hips back towards him frantically to try and pull him into her. She was dripping slick, _so_ ready, so _needy_ for him, for his _knot_ , to be filled as she’d never let any Alpha take her before.

Victor roared with triumph as he slid home into Daisy’s hot, welcoming body, as the scent of his rut swirled around them both. She keened and pushed back against him; his powerful hands clamped down on her hips.

“So wet,” he growled against her neck, nosing her hair aside so he could nip at her nape. “So ready. You want my knot, little omega, my Daisy, my flower? So sweet…”

She sobbed with need as he rocked against her, going a little deeper with each thrust until his groin was smacking hard against her ass. “Please, Victor!” somehow she found it in her to wail. “Please, your knot, I need it, oh god please, please…”

He growled in lusty pleasure, driving into her still harder, one hand sliding up her back to tangle into her hair, pull her back up against him, the other curving around beneath Daisy’s body to find her clit with his fingertips, to pleasure her while he pumped roughly inside her. Nuzzling over the swollen scent gland in her neck, he licked at it before pressing his teeth against the hot flesh.

“Yes,” Daisy panted desperately, arching her neck. “ _Yes_.”

“Mine,” Victor growled, “ _my_ omega, my _mate_.” He could feel his knot beginning to swell, the knot that would lock him inside Daisy, pumping his seed deep into her body. Painting her with his scent, marking her as Victor Creed’s Omega, untouchable on pain of death.

“My Alpha!” she cried back to him, and Victor bit down even as his knot swelled to full thickness. She sobbed and shivered around him as she came, her body sucking at him, milking his seed to draw it deep inside her for the first time - the first of many over the next few days, when her heat would flare again and again, and Victor would soothe her with the mating she so desperately craved.

But for right now, he drew her down to the bed, both lying on their sides, stroking her flank and hip gently to soothe her as she shuddered and moaned around his knot. “Hush, Daisy. Hush, my sweet girl.” One strong arm around her waist held her still as Victor pressed gentle kisses over her shoulder and neck. “You’re mine now,” he whispered into her ear. “My Omega.”

Daisy sighed in pure content, snuggling back against him, letting his comforting scent wash over her, enveloping her as the thickness of his knot swollen inside her eased the frantic, itchy feeling of her heat. “My Alpha,” she whispered back to him happily. “I’m so glad I chose you.”


	98. Jemma/Nightcrawler for orangetigger99

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 18** - _"Demons are tempting but the heart is what matters." Jemma/Nightcrawler for orangetigger99_

Working with the X-Men was an eye-opener in more ways than one. Jemma wasn’t quite sure why she’d expected them all to be completely humanoid - the Inhumans she’d known hadn’t all been, after all, look at Raina and poor Dr Garner. Having at least been forewarned about Hank, she managed not to faint dead away the first time he turned blue and fuzzy in her presence. He was rather adorable, actually, once she got over the surprise. And Raven was just stunning no matter which form she was wearing.

Kurt, however, was a bit of a shock. Perhaps she wouldn’t have screamed _quite_ so loudly if she hadn’t walked into the lab to find him squatting atop her lab bench showing Fitz his long tail, though.

“ _Gott im Himmel!_ ” the scream shocked Kurt enough that he lost his balance and fell off the bench, unfortunately tumbling into Fitz and taking the other man down with him in a tangle of limbs.

“Get off him, you, you, you, _demon_!” Jemma yelled, yanked out her ICER gun and shot Fitz with it. “Oh, crap!”

“ _Scheisse!”_ Horrified, Kurt disentangled himself from Fitz. “You shot him!”

“I was aiming for you!” Stunned, Jemma lowered the gun. “It’s an ICER, he’ll wake up in a few minutes,” she explained as Kurt freaked out, checking Fitz’s pulse.

“Ah,” immensely relieved, Kurt carefully rearranged Fitz’s limbs into a more comfortable-looking position before getting to his feet, looking cautiously at Jemma and offering a hand. “I’m Kurt Wagner.”

She instinctively reached out to shake before realising she was still holding the gun and putting it away hastily. “Oh. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I just - I panicked.”

“It’s all right. You’re not the first person to call me a demon, _Fraulein_ , and you won’t be the last.” Kurt shrugged as she took his hand at last.

“It’s not right, though,” Jemma despaired. “You shouldn’t have to face that kind of unthinking discrimination, and I thought I was better than that. I really did.”

Kurt’s yellow eyes softened as she held firmly onto his hand. “The unfamiliar can be shocking. Perhaps next time you won’t scream so loudly as to terrify the poor demon who surprises you, _ja_?”

Jemma smiled at his kindly, forgiving tone. “I hope not. But please, stop calling yourself a demon. That was awful of me and I must have hurt your feelings. I can’t apologise enough.” She was studying him with fascination as she spoke, taking in the deep cobalt colour of his skin, his beautiful cheekbones, his amazing eyes. And then realising that she was being rude, in staring; dropping her eyes in embarrassment, her cheeks colouring, she said “What a terrible start I’ve got off to. Can I please go out and come back in again?”

Kurt chuckled. “Let us forget it, Jemma. You _are_ Jemma Simmons, are you not?”

“I am. And I really am delighted to meet you. Fitz…” gesturing at her friend fast asleep on the floor, Jemma blushed even pinker, “Fitz and I were fascinated when we heard that one of the X-Men is able to teleport. We weren’t able to study Gordon, the only other teleporter we’ve ever met, but we’re terribly curious about your abilities, we were hoping that you’d talk to us and perhaps let us take some readings…”

Kurt smiled broadly. “It would be my honour.” He hesitated, but Jemma was still holding onto his hand, her smile wide and genuine. “Perhaps… you would care to discuss it over dinner?” Her eyes widened and Kurt hastily tried to backtrack. “With Fitz, of course, if you’d rather…”

“I’d rather not, actually. Not bring Fitz, that is. He’d get in the way of me getting to know you… properly.”

“You’re not concerned about being seen out somewhere with a demon? I don’t have the ability to transform...”

Jemma’s lips tightened, and she shook her head at him. “Stop calling yourself that. Demons are tempting,” she reached up with her free hand, touched her fingers very lightly to his chest, just above the breast pocket of his beautifully tailored jacket, “but the heart is what matters.”

Fitz groaned awake to find Jemma and Kurt gazing lovestruck into each other’s eyes. Blinking in bemusement, he asked “What happened?”

They looked down at him and both began to laugh.


	99. Steve/Wanda for mariisawsume123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 19** \- _"I love it when you're rough" Steve/Wanda for mariisawsume123_

**August 19** \- _"I love it when you're rough" Steve/Wanda for mariisawsume123_

The first time Wanda stepped onto the mat against Steve, he went easy on her.

Right up until she threw him into the wall with disgust, so hard the concrete cracked, and stormed out.

“If you’re going to treat me like some breakable doll, don’t bother,” she tossed over her shoulder scornfully.

Steve turned up at her door ten minutes later, walking decidedly gingerly, with an apologetic look on his face. “Shall we try that again?” he asked a bit sheepishly.

“That depends on if you really like the feeling of crashing into concrete walls.” Wanda smirked up at him.

“It’s not my favorite way to pass an afternoon. Maybe we can try it where I respect you and your abilities, and you _don’t_ throw me into the wall?”

Her smile turned more genuine. “You’ll have to work for that second part.”

The next training session saw Steve hit the wall again, but this time he made Wanda work for it, and she hit the mat hard more than a few times herself. Each time she got up smiling, though, even when she bit her lip and blood dripped down her chin.

“Aww hell, I’m sorry,” Steve said as Wanda touched her chin, looked at her bloody fingers. “That was too rough of me.”

She shook her head. “I like it when you’re rough. It shows that you respect me.”

“I respect you more than you can know,” Steve said sincerely. Hoping, very strongly, that she never figured out just how turned on he was to find that she was his match in a fight.

Wanda’s head tilted to one side. “You do remember that I can read minds, yes?” she said queryingly.

Steve flushed to the roots of his hair. “You said that you wouldn’t do that!” he said, aware that his tone was accusing but unable to help himself.

“You’re basically shouting it in my face!” Wanda snapped back. “I can’t _not_ hear it!” A small smile was playing around her lips, though. “I can throw you into the wall again, if you’d really like that.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but his blush darkened even further, until Wanda laughed softly. “I should have looked in your head earlier, I think!”


	100. Jemma/Rollins for mietzemaus78

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 19** \- _“Thank god I’m wearing gloves, because you’re too hot to handle.” Jemma/Rollins for mietzemaus78_

**August 19** \- _“Thank god I’m wearing gloves, because you’re too hot to handle.” Jemma/Rollins for mietzemaus78_

“Thank God I’m wearing gloves, because you are too hot to handle. Literally,” Jemma looked up at the big STRIKE agent, shaking her head as the handheld Geiger counter beeped insanely.

“Am I a goner, Doc?” Rollins looked down at the tiny scientist.

“No, you should be fine, but we need to get all those clothes off you and you into the decontamination shower immediately. Don’t worry, Agent Rollins.” She smiled at him. “I’d be in deep trouble if I let anything happen to the hero who just defused a nuclear bomb.” Setting the Geiger counter down, she grabbed a large yellow bag marked _Hazardous Waste_ and snapped it open. “Everything off and in here, Agent.”

“Everything? I _just_ got these boots broken in right,” he mourned.

Jemma giggled as he stooped to unlace them. “I’m sorry, Agent Rollins.”

“You could call me Jack, if you like. Since you’re about to see me butt-naked.” He straightened up to drop the boots into the bag, ripped open the Velcro tabs on his bullet-proof vest and dropped that in next.

“Just a perk of the job,” Jemma said cheekily as he stripped off his tight black T-shirt. _And it most definitely was a perk today,_ she thought, eyes roving over his muscled chest.

“Well, I’m glad I can give you some entertainment, ma’am.” The belt came next.

“If I’m to call you Jack, you’d better call me Jemma, not _ma’am_.” She really shouldn’t be taking a voyeuristic pleasure in this. But then, she was pretty sure that little shimmy of his hips as he slid his cargo pants down over them wasn’t at all necessary, either. Nor did he _need_ to stand full-frontal facing her as he dumped his pants, undershorts and socks into the bag.

Jemma wasn’t quite sure how he was the one naked and yet she was the one whose face was flushed scarlet. She tried to keep her eyes on his but it was rather difficult, especially with him grinning at her like that. Jack Rollins knew very well how he looked naked, she suspected. And he also knew exactly what effect that sight was having on her.

“I’m glad you said I’ll be fine after the decontamination shower, Jemma,” he turned away finally, sauntering across the room to the shower cubicle. Her eyes dropped helplessly to gaze at his ass.

_Oh, help…_

“Why?” she said vaguely, still staring. He looked back over his shoulder at her and winked.

“Because that means there’s nothing to stop me asking you out to dinner afterwards.”


	101. RumSkye for lillyrosenight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 19**  
>  _\- "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back." RumSkye for lillyrosenight_

“A _trophy wife_?” Daisy stared at Coulson incredulously. “You want me to go undercover as _his_ trophy wife?” she jerked her thumb at Rumlow, who was sitting at his ease in front of Coulson’s desk, one ankle hitched up on the other knee.

“As far as I know you don’t have anyone else who can walk into a meeting of black-market arms dealers and talk to them on an equal footing, do you, sweetheart?” Rumlow shot her a wink. Daisy had to violently suppress the urge to quake him into the wall. She bit down hard on her lower lip and gave Coulson a fulminating glare.

“It has to be you,” Coulson said, not at all placatingly. “We need you inside to hack the system. And the only way we can get _you_ inside is with _him_. And the only way _he_ can get you inside is…”

“...as the trophy wife. Yeah. I get it.” But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she nodded after a minute. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as I’ve taken you shopping for some more suitable outfits,” Rumlow said with a shrug.

“ _What?_ What’s wrong with my wardrobe?” Daisy said indignantly.

“Well, other than the fact that everything is black, grey, made of denim or both…” He smirked at her.

She couldn’t even deny it. “I don’t need _you_ to take me shopping,” she said belligerently.

“If you buy anything with less than a four-figure price tag, the other wives will make you for a phony in five seconds,” Rumlow said to her back as she headed for the door.

Daisy froze. Turned to look back, her mouth hanging open. “Where do you even _buy_ things that cost that much?” she asked, horrified.

“Told you,” Rumlow told Coulson, who sighed and nodded.

“Trust him, Daisy. He knows how to move in those circles, better than anyone else we’ve got now Bobbi’s gone. Let him teach you what you need to know.”

Grudgingly, she nodded. Rumlow had been rubbing her up the wrong way with his snide remarks and sardonic looks ever since Fury sent him to Coulson less than a month before, but she had to admit he wasn’t cocky without cause. He was even more hyper-competent than May, in his own way.

And apparently, one of his competencies was in designer shopping for incredibly expensive women’s clothing.

Daisy had never even dreamed of such clothes, and shoes, and Rumlow bought her an entire suitcase-full - _and_ the Louis Vuitton suitcase to go with them. Right down to the lingerie. And then the makeup, and the perfume, and a session at an expensive hair stylist and beauty therapist to have her hair styled, her skin pampered, her nails and feet perfectly manicured.

“Trust me,” was all he said when she questioned anything. “You have to look the part, one hundred per cent. I’ve heard these women talk; they pick apart the smallest details of each other’s appearances. They will notice the slightest little thing amiss.”

Remembering back to Ian Quinn’s long-ago party in his Maltese mansion, and how she’d been made as a fake from almost the first minute, Daisy had to concede that he probably had a point. And since he appeared to be paying for everything on his personal credit card, she was damn well going to keep it afterwards. Call it a reward for having to spend who knows how long putting up with his obnoxious know-it-all attitude.

Mack posed as their limo driver to deliver them to the ‘conference’, and Daisy realised how different she must look when his eyes widened and he let out a low whistle as she walked up to the car.

“Holy shit, Tremors,” Mack gave her a long look up and down. “I barely recognised you.”

“I barely recognise me either,” she admitted, skimming her hands lightly over the fine silk of her dress. She’d expected it to be slutty, but Rumlow had picked out more subtly sexy things for her to try on and she had to admit he had good taste. The high-necked, but backless, dress was easily the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn. Teamed with diamond chandelier earrings - real ones - and astonishingly comfortable high heels, Daisy really did feel like a million bucks.

Giving a little spin to show off to Mack, she squeaked, startled, to find herself suddenly face to face with Rumlow, as his strong hands settled on her waist.

“Not bad,” his eyes skimmed up and down her figure, scrutinised her face. “Your makeup is nice and subtle too. Very good.”

“Get off me,” she swatted at his hands, trying hard not to notice how good he looked in a grey Armani suit, no tie, his shirt collar open to show his tanned, muscled throat.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly at the conference, _darling_ ,” he emphasized the word, holding the car door open for her. “If you can’t play the devoted trophy wife willing to suck as much dick as you have to in order to get your besotted older husband to fork out for whatever your shallow gold-digging heart desires, we might as well get out of the car now.”

She met Mack’s eyes in the mirror, and had to look away from his knowing expression. Mack knew her too well, had caught her more than once eyeing Rumlow’s muscled physique when the other man couldn’t possibly have seen.

“I’ll play my part when we have an audience who need to see it, Rumlow,” she said coolly.

“Suit yourself - but you’d better get used to calling me Brock.” He smiled slowly at her as she met his eyes again. “Daisy.”

 _It was just hormones,_ she tried to tell herself as she looked away, out of the window. Hormones that had her feeling hot and shaky inside at the way he said her name, drawing it out slowly. That, and the way he looked in that tailored suit.

She was far from the only woman who noticed the way Rumlow looked, Daisy realised once they arrived. There were far more women looking at _him_ than men at _her_ , at any rate. And she realised very quickly that the women had her under even closer scrutiny because of it; how did _she_ catch a man like that, handsome, rich, fit and in his prime? She found herself clinging close to his side without having to be urged, feeling oddly possessive before the other women’s jealous stares.

“Where did you find _her_ , Rumlow?” Katsoulis, a Greek arms dealer he knew slightly, asked enviously as Daisy moved briefly away from his side to coo over an artwork their host was determined to show off. “She’s a real pearl, and the way she looks at you - I haven’t seen that look in a woman’s eyes since I married my first wife.”

“Perhaps it’s because all yours know very well you’ll trade them in for a new model as soon as you get bored,” Rumlow jibed lightly, making the other man chuckle. Daisy turned to smile at him and he found himself wishing that her smiles weren’t forced, that the ‘look in her eyes’ Katsoulis thought he saw wasn’t just Daisy’s impatience to finish the job they were here for.

Without really thinking, Rumlow beckoned, and Daisy came immediately to his side, her face turned up to his inquiringly. She was so flawlessly beautiful; it was the most natural thing in the world to lift his hand to brush his fingers down her delicate jawline, to cup her small pointed chin in his hand. She turned her cheek against his palm, slanted a look up at him through those ridiculously long black eyelashes that made his mouth go dry.

Katsoulis was watching them, and he wasn’t the only one. _Not_ kissing Daisy would have looked strange indeed, but he didn’t want to just dive in there, was pretty sure she wouldn’t react well. So Rumlow tried to make a joke out of it, give her a possible way out if she wanted. She could make a teasing remark and make her escape.

“You’ve got to go with the other ladies now,” he said, “but before you do, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”

Her deep brown eyes widened, and for a moment Rumlow thought she would take the opening he’d offered, say something teasing about not trusting his promises and making her escape. But instead she moved a little closer, reached up to put her arms around his neck, and said throatily “I shall hold you to that, darling,” before kissing him absolutely breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _~~(There might be a part 2 to this~~ one, ~~if someone sent me an appropriate ask…)~~ So everyone's screaming about this and I took another look at it and realised that it looks like the start of another erotica novella I can publish on Amazon, with just some name and minor detail changes._
> 
> _My Tumblr viewers know all about it, but I already re-wrote one RumSkye piece (Ships In The Night) and published as First Submission, the first part of an original trilogy. If you'd like to check it out (and the two-part sequel!) have a look[here](http://amzn.to/2bkIsvQ) on Amazon!_


	102. Daisy/Steve for akadaisyrogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 22** - _“I’m going to show you what real fucking is.” Daisy/Steve for akadaisyrogers_
> 
> _Smutty, as though it could be anything else with a prompt like that!_

“Oh, dear,” Natasha said sympathetically as Daisy collapsed into the seat across from her and dropped her head onto the table. “Bad night?”

“Frustration is an absolute bitch,” Daisy said to the polished timber.

“I won’t disagree. Why haven’t you just jumped his bones yet?”

“Because every time I even hint in that direction he gives me one of his _Captain America is Disappointed In You_ Looks and I feel like the sluttiest slut to ever slut.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not that old-fashioned,” Natasha snorted magnificently. “That’s your own paranoia talking.”

Daisy looked up at Natasha through her fingers. “You think?”

“Yeah. Steve’s probably trying to be a gentleman and take things slow because he feels like you deserve that.”

“I gotta ask you,” Daisy leaned in close. “Do you think he’s ever done it?”

“Are you seriously asking me if _I_ think _your_ boyfriend is a virgin?” Natasha arched her eyebrows in amusement. “You had access to Peggy Carter’s SHIELD archives. Didn’t you look in there?”

Daisy blinked. “I never thought of it!” she confessed. “Surely Director Carter wouldn’t have… you know… kept records on _that_?”

Natasha shrugged, picked up her coffee and took a sip. Lowering the cup, she smiled suddenly. “I have an idea for how you can find out.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking, considering how evil that smile looks, but tell me more,” Daisy begged.

Natasha’s smirk grew even more wicked. “Do you have a vibrator?”

“Girl’s best friend, who doesn’t?” Daisy shrugged.

“Then listen up, sweetie, and let Auntie Nat get you laid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey,” Steve popped his head around the door to Daisy’s room.

“Come on in,” she waved him over. She was snuggled beneath a blanket on the couch; he smiled at her in amusement as he sat down at the other end.

“Cold?”

“Mm.” She didn’t look cold, Steve thought, her cheeks looked flushed, actually. He shrugged and turned his attention to the television. She was watching True Blood, which he knew she liked. He didn’t mind it, so settled in to watch it with her.

It was a couple of minutes later that Steve picked up Daisy making an unusual sound, a tiny hiss of breath through her teeth. She seemed to be shifting about on the couch a lot, too. One small foot was actually kneading against his thigh.

“You alright, darling?” he looked across at her, noticing that her cheeks seemed even more flushed.

“Mm hm,” she said, and there was distinct strain in her voice.

“Daisy?” She was acting really oddly. Giving her his full attention, Steve detected her hands shifting beneath the blanket, and - what was that faint buzzing sound? He reached out and flipped the blanket back.

 _About time,_ Daisy thought. _Took you long enough to notice_. She’d actually got pretty close to orgasm, watching Joe Manganiello and Alexander Skarsgard running around on screen and using her bullet vibrator on herself.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve gaped.

“What does it look like? I’m masturbating,” she said calmly, shifting her bullet slightly and sighing with pleasure as it hit just the right spot.

“... _why_?”

“What do you mean, _why_?” Daisy didn’t have to feign indignation. “Because you’re too much of a blushing virgin to see to my needs, why do you think?”

“What?” Steve’s cheeks were red, his pupils blown wide as he watched Daisy, who had absolutely no intention of stopping what she was doing. “I’m not!”

“You’re _not_ seeing to my needs, damn right, so I gotta do it myself.” Daisy skimmed the bullet in shallow circles over her clit, gasping with pleasure.

“No, I’m not - not a virgin…”

“You’re not seeing to my needs, either,” she pointed out ruthlessly, “so I’m not convinced, or you’d have thrown this vibrator across the room and been giving me a good fucking by now.”

Steve lost his head at that. He’d been too stunned to act before, just staring in utter fascination at what Daisy was doing, at the silver bullet held in her slender fingers, rubbing lightly around and over wet, pink, sensitive flesh. Reaching out, he took it from her, ignoring her protest.

“You want a good fucking,” he said, turning the vibrator off. Getting to his feet, he shucked his shirt slowly, unfastened his belt and drew it from his waist with a snap. “I’ll give you a good fucking.”

Daisy stared greedily as Steve unbuttoned his pants, slid them off along with his shorts. Straightened back up to reveal that he was more than ready to make good on his word.

“I’ll show you what real fucking is,” Steve said roughly, before he was on her, dragging her hands above her head to hold them there, her back arched as he bent to kiss and lick at her nipples, his free hand dipping between her legs. Two thick fingers thrust deep inside Daisy and she sobbed with pleasure, so close to the edge now.

“Yes. Steve yes, oh please…”

“Not yet,” he gritted out, withdrawing his fingers. “You’re gonna come on my cock or not at all.”

Just hearing him talk like that, seeing his civilised mask come down in his lustful urgency, almost had Daisy tipping over. She writhed desperately against the unbreakable grip of his fingers. “Please, Steve,” she whimpered. “Please do it, please fuck me.”

Steve sat down, releasing her hands and yanking Daisy onto his lap. “You want it?” he demanded. “Want it this way?”

She ran her fingers into his hair, pulled lightly. Pressed her lips to his, licking at the closed seam of them until he parted them to let her in, kissing her back fiercely. His huge hands on her hips guided her down onto his cock, not particularly gently or slowly, but Daisy didn’t want slow or gentle. A loud moan burst from her lips as he thrust deep, pulling her right down until she was seated on his thighs, squirming on his thick cock, her breasts rubbing on his muscled chest.

“That’s it,” Steve growled as he felt delicate internal muscles begin to flutter around him, heard Daisy’s cries increase in volume. “That’s it, come on me, my beautiful girl. That’s it. Gonna fuck you right through it. Gonna fuck you until you can’t walk in the morning.”

She sobbed with pleasure, writhing against him. He held her steady, not moving until she sagged against him limply, her mouth pressing open kisses against his neck. And then, in an amazing display of strength, he stood up, taking her with him easily, still impaled deep on his rock-hard cock.

“Come on, my beautiful. Let’s take this to the bed. I want you to be comfortable while I fuck you senseless.”

She could only wonder what genie she’d let out of the bottle. And be very grateful to Natasha for suggesting the right spell...


	103. Daisy/Rollins for enchantingdanger227

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 22** \- _“Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth" Daisy/Rollins for enchantingdanger227_

“Fucking hell, Johnson,” a deep voice rumbled above her. Blinking her eyes open painfully, Daisy looked up, expecting to see Mack, but it wasn't her partner, it was the big STRIKE agent, Rollins she thought his name was, who'd been leading her backup team.

“Where's Mack?” she mumbled vaguely.

“Cleaning up the mess you just made.” Dropping to one knee beside where she lay in the dirt, he ripped open a thigh pocket and brought out a sterile gauze pack. “Your nose is bleeding. You gotta stop doing this to yourself.”

He had green eyes, she noticed inconsequentially as he helped her sit up, applying the wad of gauze to her nose. They were an unusual grass-green shade, and he had a distinctive scar, a thickly ridged white line from his lower lip slicing down into his chin. A little dazed, she reached up to finger the scar lightly, making him start and those bright green eyes widen with surprise.

“Is that what you were told when you tore your face open?” she asked thickly through the gauze pad.

Rollins barked a short, surprised laugh. “Somethin’ like that. I didn't need tellin’ twice, though.” He lifted the gauze from her nose. “Hm. Looks like it's stopped. Let's get you out of here.”

To Daisy’s astonishment, he slid a hand behind her knees and the other around her back, lifting her and standing up as easily as though she weighed nothing at all.

“I can walk!” she immediately protested, wriggling.

“And Mack will have my head if I let you. Not to mention Dr Simmons. She's terrifying when she's angry.”

That made Daisy chuckle, at the thought of big tough Agent Rollins being scared of tiny Jemma. He'd tightened his grip on her anyway, showed no intention of putting her down, and her vision was starting to grey out around the edges, so she stopped protesting.

“What's your name?” she mumbled, letting her head fall sideways against his broad shoulder. “Should know your name…”

“STRIKE Commander Rollins, ma'am…”

“Not that. First name. Being knight in shining armor, should know your first name…”

His broad chest rumbled with a laugh. “It's Jack, ma'am.”

“Daisy,” she mumbled back before the world went dark.

She woke up in the med bay as usual, Mack sitting vigil by her bed while Jemma fussed over her.

“There you are!” Jemma beamed down at her, accustomed by now to the way Daisy's Inhuman physiology accelerated her healing. “How are you feeling? You scared poor Commander Rollins half out of his wits when you passed out on him!”

“He's not the only one,” Mack rumbled disapprovingly.

“Oh, don't you start. Rollins already told me off and I'm sure I'll get a lecture from DC too,” Daisy pushed herself upright. “The job needed doing and I did it. Don't tell me that other agents don't push themselves to the point of collapse too sometimes when the situation warrants it, because I've seen both of you do it.”

There wasn't a lot either of them could say to that. Jemma convinced her to stay in bed a little longer, at least until she'd eaten, and Coulson turned up just then with soup, grilled cheese sandwiches and his usual lecture.

Finally making her escape from their well-meaning concern, Daisy headed back to her room to shower and change before deciding that she should go find Rollins and thank him. Asking around eventually yielded the information that he was in the STRIKE team's gym.

One step inside the door and Daisy froze, her mouth falling open.

Because Jack Rollins, working out, was a sight to behold. There was nobody else in there, a fact for which she was grateful, because it meant that she could feast her eyes greedily and nobody would notice, since the man himself was intent on the punching bag he was ruthlessly beating the shit out of.

Stripped to the waist, clad in nothing but a pair of thin athletics shorts that left little to the imagination, he was all sweating, glistening, honed muscles.

 _No wonder he carried me so easily,_ Daisy thought vaguely, aware that she was staring but unable to help herself. She must have made some slight sound, or perhaps his finely honed instincts just told him that he was no longer alone, because he looked around suddenly and saw her.

“Agent Johnson!” Dropping his fists, he stepped back from the punching bag. “How are you feeling, ma'am?”

“Fine,” she had to swallow to get some moisture into her dry mouth before she spoke. “I just stopped by to say thank you.”

“You're very welcome, ma'am,” he grinned at her before lifting a fist to his mouth to use his teeth to tug loose the wrapping on it. Automatically, Daisy stepped forward to help him, and he let her take his hand and start unwinding the wrapping protecting his knuckles.

“I'm sure I told you to call me Daisy,” she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Right before you passed out in my arms,” he said dryly. “Wasn't sure you'd remember.”

“I do. _Jack_.”

“Very good, you're not all that concussed then,” he grinned down at her as she finished unwrapping his fist.

“I can wrap this back up again and we can get in the ring and go a few rounds, if you want proof,” Daisy snarked at him.

Jack chuckled, held out his other fist to unwrap. “No, thanks. I went a couple rounds with Agent May earlier. I'm not sure my ego could take having my ass kicked twice in one day, especially since both of you are half my size!”

She had to laugh, especially since there wasn't a hint of resentment in his tone at having had his ass kicked by May. Or any doubt that Daisy could take him too, not that she was vain enough to think she could, not without using her powers, at any rate. Rollins hadn't got to lead a STRIKE team by being easy to take down.

“Oh, you poor thing. You look positively _crushed_ by the experience,” she cooed at him.

“I think I'll live. It's a good example for my recruits, never to underestimate someone just because they're small, dainty-looking and gorgeous.”

 _He's talking about May,_ Daisy realised, a little dismayed. _Damn, he's got the hots for May…_

“So any time you want to come in and show the kids how outclassed they are, I don't mind volunteering to be your victim,” Jack said.

“Oh, _victim_ sounds a bit harsh,” Daisy said immediately. “I don't really want to beat you up.” She'd long since finished unwrapping his hands, but neither of them backed off from the close proximity they were standing in, and Daisy was finding it very difficult to keep her eyes on Jack's, a little overwhelmed by his sheer size, the sweating muscular _masculinity_ of him.

“Wouldn't be my preferred activity with you either,” Jack said, “I can think of better ways you could get me all sweaty and bruised.”

There was an intimacy, a _heat_ to his voice there hadn't been before. Daisy's eyes flew up to his, found him gazing down at her with his green eyes hooded, lips slightly parted.

“Just so you know,” Jack continued, “Any time you want to stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth, that'd be fine with me.”

Daisy licked her lips, dropped her eyes to his shorts. “That doesn't look like it would take long,” she said breathily, hardly able to believe that he was hitting on her. Everyone who knew what she was seemed to look at her as some sort of terrifying, asexual, living weapon, not as a woman. But Jack absolutely knew who she was, _what_ she was, and yet he was still staring at her mouth like he was just waiting for her permission to kiss her.

“Like I said. Any time you like.” He took a small step closer, looming over her.

The wrappings she was still holding fell from her fingers as she reached out to lightly touch his glistening, rock-hard abs. One powerful arm curled around her waist as Jack bent his head to close the distance between their lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(I swear everything I write at the moment looks like the start of yet another erotica novella! This one might get continued that way too)_


	104. Mack/Tony for quinfirefrorefiddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 23** - _"Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" Mack/Tony (MuscledMechanics) for quinfirefrorefiddle_

An underground, secret SHIELD base. It was like something out of a HYDRA manual, not SHIELD, though Tony didn’t know why he was surprised. It was just Nick Fury’s style, after all, though he’d been genuinely surprised when Agent admitted to him that the base predated Fury’s reign and had been, apparently, Peggy Carter’s brainchild.

It certainly looked the vintage, he mused, looking around, although SHIELD just as clearly had some pretty damn good people working for them who had brought it up to date. The aircraft hangar was certainly impressive, as the massive doors slid closed above his head.

“Nice,” Tony murmured under his breath, turning back to the group awaiting his attention as Coulson said his name. “Ohhhh,” he couldn’t restrain the sigh of lust as his eyes landed on an incredibly impressive man standing at Coulson’s shoulder, arms folded. The guy had to be about six foot five, broad shouldered, muscles bulging thickly in his arms, shown off to perfection by the sleeveless, oli-stained vest he was wearing, his midnight-black skin gleaming with sweat.

Tony wanted to just _lick_ him. _He looks like a mechanic. Please let him be a mechanic. If he’s a mechanic I’m stealing him_ …

“So, hot stuff,” he said, completely ignoring Agent and the half-dozen other people all staring at him, “apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

Mack’s jaw dropped as Tony Stark - _Iron Man!_ \- looked straight at him, not even acknowledging that anyone else was present, and said the words printed in neat, blocky script down the inside of his forearm. The words he’d been born with, had looked at every day of his life wondering about the man who would one day say them to him, who would judge him first on the way he looked.

On the other hand, he probably looked exactly like a Tony Stark wet dream, which - well, that was no bad thing. Not in Mack’s world. Especially not the way Stark was looking at him, as though he wanted to eat Mack alive.

Everyone was looking at Mack now, eyes wide. They’d all seen his forearm, seen his words, knew what they said. He could see Daisy’s lips parting as she opened her mouth to speak and no doubt say something deeply tactless and utterly unhelpful to the situation. He headed her off by stepping forward, not coincidentally blocking her direct line of sight to Stark, and moving closer to Tony, who looked at him appreciatively.

Slowly, Mack unfolded his arms. Held out his left arm towards Stark, who gave it a puzzled glance. Mack’s skin was so dark that the black words were hard to pick out except in the strongest light, which it wasn’t, right here in the shadow of Zephyr One.

Mack had spent his entire life trying to work out what he should say in response, if his soulmate spoke first. Faced with Stark’s bright eyes and wicked smile, though, every witty remark Mack had ever imagined fled right out of his brain.

“I’m just a mechanic,” he rumbled.

Tony’s hand flew to his ass. Right under the curve of his left ass cheek. Mack’s brain went straight into the gutter.

“You… that…” Tony stuttered, stared at Mack’s arm, trying to make out the words he was suddenly sure had to be there. “I… don’t think that you’re _just_ anything,” he said at last, looking up into Mack’s deep brown eyes. “And _this_ mechanic manages some pretty special things. Who knows what we could manage, together?”


	105. Victor/Darcy for georgiagirlagain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Bonus ficlet for georgiagirlagain**
> 
> _“This is mine. Are we clear?” Victor/Darcy_
> 
> _In the same AU as[this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/17380639)_
> 
> _I changed the prompt verrry slightly from ‘this’ to ‘she’ to avoid Victor being degrading to Darcy, which I don’t think he would do._

Victor stepped out of the shower, towelling himself dry, stretching with languorous satisfaction. Even he was a little sore and tired after the previous night. It hadn’t stopped him from getting up early while Darcy still slept the deep sleep of the sated and going for a run in the woods, though he’d possibly been a little slower than he would otherwise have been.

Which unfortunately meant he’d missed his chance to join Darcy in the shower. She was already dressing when he got back and fended him off laughingly, insisting that she was in desperate need of coffee and food and that he was sweaty and smelly.

He’d given in with bad grace, knowing that she liked to linger over her breakfast, and that she would almost certainly sit with him while he ate anyway. He hurried into clean clothes and headed swiftly for the kitchen on bare feet, eager to be back in her company again.

His sensitive ears picked up the shouting well before he got there. _Darcy’s voice_. Victor quickened his pace to a run and sprinted into the kitchen to find Pietro and Darcy nose to nose, yelling at each other.

“It’s none of your fucking business!” Darcy was shouting angrily.

“It is every decent man’s business to speak up when he sees a woman being abused!” Pietro yelled right back, not backing down. Not, at least, until a clawed hand closed around his throat and flung him backwards, away from Darcy.

Pietro _blurred_ back up to his feet with a _hiss_ of rage - only to find Victor’s claws at his throat again, bared fangs gleaming.

“You ever raise your voice to her again, I will tear your throat out,” Victor’s voice was low and soft, a deep rumble of sound.

Pietro didn’t blink. “ _You_ ever raise your hand to her again and you will never see your death coming,” he vowed in response.

“Ignorant child,” Victor said contemptuously. “Did you _ask_ Darcy whether she had a problem, or did you just make assumptions when you saw the marks on her?”

Pietro’s blue eyes widened slightly, flew to Darcy, who was standing watching them in silence. She raised her eyebrows at him and deliberately took a sip of her coffee before speaking.

“He just started yelling about abusive boyfriends and didn’t listen when I tried to tell him that every single thing you did to me last night - and every other time we’re together - is entirely consensual.”

“Darcy,” Pietro’s voice cracked a little. “You can’t mean that. You can’t _enjoy_ him hurting you.”

“Victor’s right,” Darcy said on a sigh. “You _are_ a child. Go read up on BDSM, Pietro, and please keep your nose out of my business in future.”

Pietro’s face fell, and Victor almost - _almost_ \- felt sorry for him. He could smell the younger man’s emotions, though, chagrin and not a little thwarted lust, and he wasn’t prepared to just let the subject drop. He let his claws prick Pietro’s throat lightly.

“Before you go and start your research,” Victor said, “let’s get something straight. She,” he nodded towards Darcy, “is _mine_. Are we clear?”

“You can’t own _people_ ,” Pietro fired back.

Victor’s upper lip lifted in a snarl, shivering through the air. “She is mine, and I am _hers_ ,” he said menacingly. “If I catch you ignoring Darcy’s decisions regarding her own life or raising your voice to her again, your life will hang on the leash she holds in her dainty hand, do you understand me?”

Finally taking him seriously, Pietro swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I understand,” he muttered sullenly.

“Good. Now get out.” Victor didn’t lower his claws, though, forcing Pietro to step back. With one last glance at Darcy, the younger man spun on his heel and was gone in a blur.

“Thank you, darling,” Darcy smiled up at Victor. “He was ruining my appetite.”

With the other man gone, with the scent of his lust no longer clogging Victor’s sensitive nose, he was prepared to be magnanimous. “He was trying to do the right thing, looking out for you,” he said fairly, “but going about it the wrong way in not _listening_ to you.”

She reached up to hook her arms around his neck as he came to her; he lifted her easily to sit on the breakfast bar to make it a little easier, bring her a little closer to his size. “I really could care less, Victor.”

“He has no idea that he’d never have a chance with you even if I wasn’t around, does he?” Victor grinned at her, a quick flash of fangs.

“Not a clue.” Darcy smiled back at him, hooking her ankles around his waist, pulling him closer so that she could grind up against him. Victor growled softly, and a moment later she was flat on her back, him bending over her, big hands curving over her breasts.

“Oh seriously, in the _kitchen_?”

“Get out, Sam,” there wasn’t much human in Victor’s voice. Darcy giggled as she heard Sam’s put-upon sigh before the door closed.

“We probably _should_ take this back to the bedroom,” she pointed out.

“If you insist,” a moment later she was hauled up and over Victor’s shoulder. She giggled helplessly as he carried her out, past an eye-rolling Sam.

“You can have the kitchen now!” she called at him helpfully.


	106. Kristen from Statistics/Remy LeBeau for nightwitchling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 26** \- _Kristen from Statistics/Remy LeBeau for nightwitchling_
> 
>  
> 
> _I chose the line “I am always looking for meaningful one-night stands”._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It’s not often I get a request for a Marvel character who I have no idea who it is! Kristen from Statistics got one mention, in TWS, as one of the people Natasha was trying to set up on a date with Steve._
> 
>  
> 
> _"You know, if you ask out Kristen from Statistics, she'll probably say yes."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"That's why I don't ask."_
> 
>  
> 
> _Nightwitchling told me that the poor girl’s tag is full of nasty crap, so I decided I should fix that._
> 
>  
> 
> _PROBABLY say yes? To a date with Captain America? I’m gonna infer from that Kristen can have her pick of men; she’s beautiful and smart. So I decided to fancast Sarah Rafferty, who plays Donna in Suits. Donna’s one of my favourite characters on TV right now. I've decided that Kristen is Donna’s identical twin sister, smart mouth and all, working for SHIELD instead of Pearson Specter Litt. I've included a picture of the beauty herself, to help with your visualisation!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Setup for the story: After the fall of SHIELD, Kristen was recruited by SI and later transferred to the Avengers Facility. She swans around being perfectly herself - probably promoted to run the entire Administration and Records department, not just Statistics - and managing absolutely everything behind the scenes. Steve’s actually thoroughly intimidated by her efficiency, as are pretty much all the other Avengers. She’s like another Pepper Potts only even MORE sure of her own awesomeness._
> 
>  
> 
> _And then one day, the Facility gets a visit from someone who isn’t intimidated at all..._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/kristen%20from%20statistics_zpswqfhwipy.jpg.html)

“The documentation you asked for, Mr Rogers,” the beautiful redhead handed Steve a tablet, gave him a polite smile and stood waiting.

“Ah, ah, yes, thank you, Kristen,” Steve stuttered out. “I, uh, yeah?” He looked at her helplessly.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “They _are_ confidential, sir. I need your thumbprint receipt.”

“Oh! Yes. Right.” Hastily he pressed his thumb to the pad. She checked the receipt on her own, nodded thanks, and turned, clipping briskly away on skyscraper heels.

Remy, standing beside Steve, let out a long, low whistle. “ _Mon Dieu_. Now _that_ is a woman.” He glanced across at Steve, who’d turned fire red. “Too much woman for you, I think, Cap.”

“Nat keeps urging me to ask her out, but she absolutely terrifies me,” Steve confessed. “She’s not really my type, anyway.”

Remy had already observed the shy glances Steve kept giving Dr Foster’s assistant. “So I would not be treading on anyone’s toes if I pursued the lovely lady?” he checked. Alienating one of the Avengers by chasing after their love interest probably wouldn’t be in his best interests, if he wanted to work with them in the future.

“Be my guest,” Steve said gratefully. “If she’s off the market, maybe Nat will leave me alone for five minutes.”

“Or perhaps turn her matchmaking sights on another target, _mon ami_ ,” Remy nudged him with a chuckle.

“I can only hope,” Steve said ruefully. “Here, anyway,” he handed Remy the tablet. “You can go find Kristen later. Here’s the report on AIM’s latest activities…”

Remy gave Steve the courtesy of his full attention until they’d finished the briefing, and then rose to his feet. “Could you possibly tell me where I might find the lovely Kristen, _mon ami_?”

Steve grinned, shaking his head. “You’re a braver man than I, Remy.”

“That would be disputed by many, no doubt. Perhaps I am just more determined to pursue my own happiness in matters of the heart. You should consider following my lead,” Remy looked pointedly at the dark-haired young woman standing in the hallway outside their meeting-room, talking with Bruce.

“Don’t you start matchmaking too! Natasha’s bad enough!” Steve pointed. “Along to the end of the floor, then one level down. Kristen’s is the corner office.”

“ _Merci beaucoup_ ,” Remy tilted his head with a smile.

“Good luck!” Steve called after him as he headed out.

Remy had to pause to stare in awe at Kristen through the glass walls of her office before he entered. She looked so perfectly put together, dealing with data flowing rapidly across an array of screens in front of her with calm efficiency. She looked up suddenly, as though becoming aware of his scrutiny, her blue eyes fixing on him. Tilting her head, she gave him a small, quizzical smile, and Remy realised he should move.

“Good afternoon,” he drawled, moving to the office’s open doorway. The etched letters on the door read _Kristen Paulsen, Administration Manager_. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

She smiled. “Nothing that can’t wait, Mr LeBeau. How may I help you?” Gracefully, she rose to her feet as he stepped forward to stand in front of her desk.

“I could not help but notice that you are easily the most beautiful woman in the facility,” Remy began, “and now that I have discovered you are as smart as you are stunning, I could not possibly pass up the chance to ask if you might consider allowing this poor fool to take you out to dinner?” He placed his fingers to his chest and offered her a winning smile.

Startled and secretly very flattered, Kristen showed no signs of outward discomposure. Instead, she considered Remy for a long, silent moment, long enough that Remy actually shifted his feet and looked a little awkward, wondering if she was about to turn him down.

“I suppose so,” Kristen said finally. “I'm always looking for meaningful one-night stands. I'll be finished around seven; you can pick me up then.” And she sat back down and returned her attention to her screens in a clear gesture of dismissal, leaving Remy gaping with shock.

There was really no other option but to gracefully remove himself from her presence, though he was quietly seething. With one last lingering look at the beautiful woman once again entirely absorbed in her work, Remy left the office, already considering how to pull out all the stops to impress Kristen.

_Only good for a one night stand, hmm? By the end of the night, she'll be considering me marriage material!_

He didn't see the small, triumphant smile that curved Kristen’s mouth as he stalked away.


	107. Darcy/Victor Creed for scienceatemybrian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 27** \- _Darcy/Victor Creed for a blend of “Want to come over and watch porn on my flat screen mirror?” and “Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth” for scienceatemybrian_

The little human woman had been watching him all evening. Victor could smell her desire; a mixture of curiosity and lust, tinged with just enough fear that he couldn’t stop looking at her. It was a heady combination; enough, finally, to make him approach her, curious to see if her lust was enough to overcome her fear, for one night at least.

“Oh my God, he’s coming over,” Darcy squeaked at Jane, who cast a quick glance over her shoulder.

“Well you _have_ been staring at him with your tongue hanging out all night, he’s probably coming over to tell you to put it away!”

“Oh, like you don’t gape at Thor just that way,” Darcy muttered. “No, don’t leave!” she clutched at Jane’s arm.

“No way, I’m not going to stand here and be a third wheel while you drool all over Catman!” Jane wrenched her arm loose and made her escape.

“It’s Sabertooth, not Catman, you traitor,” Darcy hissed, but under her breath, because Victor was getting close now, his eyes still fixed on hers even as he paused to speak to Clint, who’d briefly accosted him. Darcy debated fleeing while she had the chance, but she had the distinct suspicion that Victor would give chase, like a cat after a mouse, and that she needed to make sure he didn’t see her as prey.

Steeling herself as he approached, firming her knocking knees and lifting her chin challengingly - damn it, why was he _so_ tall? Darcy’s train of thought derailed as Victor stepped just a little too close, into the bubble of her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He was close enough for her to breathe in his scent, warm, spicy and somehow _feral_ , head-spinningly intoxicating.

She was never afterwards sure what induced her to open her mouth and blurt out an unbelievably risqué proposition. Pure lust, probably.

“Want to come over and watch porn on my flat screen mirror?”

Victor blinked, once, before he began to smile broadly, not bothering to hide his sharp fangs. Damn, but he liked the little human’s spunk. Her scent was almost pure lust now as she eyed him boldly. Leaning down towards her, he growled softly;

“You should stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth.”

She gulped. “ _Your_ teeth look better suited to the job, frankly, but I’m willing to give it a go.”

Victor laughed, held out a big hand to her, palm up. “Letting my teeth get that close to your skin is a risky proposition, little Darcy Lewis. I might decide that I want to eat you all up.”

The filthy inflection he put on the last words was impossible to miss. Darcy smiled up at him, put her hand in his.

“Why, mister… cat,” she replied, “what big teeth you have!”


	108. Darcy/Remy for themusingofagothicsoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **August 28 -** _“This is mine. Are we clear?” Darcy/Remy for themusingofagothicsoul_
> 
> This one gets smutty: don't say I didn't warn you!

“This is mine,” Darcy waved the box at Remy. “Are we clear?”

“But _chère_ ,” he pointed out laughingly, “I am a thief. The world’s _finest_ thief. Telling me that I may not have something is tantamount to issuing a challenge.”

She paused, considering that. “But if I tell you that I’ll share, you’ll take some.”

Remy shrugged with an aggravating smirk.

“Is there any way that I can persuade or convince you to leave my chocolate stash the hell alone?”

He pursed his lips, pretending to consider, before shaking his head. “Remy has a sweet tooth, _chère_. I can promise to replenish your stash regularly?”

Darcy wrinkled her nose at him before putting the box back on the top shelf in her pantry. “Yes, but your timing is bad. Last time you raided it was the same day I really needed some.”

Grinning, Remy came over, slipped his hands around her waist and bent his head to nuzzle lightly at her neck. “And I very gladly went out to find you some, at three in the morning, I might point out.”

She had to admit the truth of that. He’d brought her the _good_ stuff too, Lindt truffles instead of the budget bag of Hershey’s Kisses he’d swiped.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Darcy attempted to claim.

“You talk of principles, when your boyfriend is a master thief,” Remy chuckled in her ear, licking lightly at her earlobe.

“Remy,” she tried to reprimand him, but her voice came out breathy, too high. He made a low, hungry sound, hands curving up around her waist to cup her breasts, tweak her nipples through her bra.

“Sweet,” he whispered hotly, his teeth grazing her neck. “You are quite sweet enough to satisfy my cravings for sugar tonight, Darcy…”

She sagged into his expert caresses, moaning as his fingers tugged down her bra cups and began to squeeze at her nipples. His hot mouth started sucking a love bite into her neck, lean hips rocking against her ass, the thick heat of his arousal rubbing at her through their clothes.

Darcy had to hold onto the edge of the kitchen bench to steady herself, as Remy deftly divested both of them of their clothes.

“Lean forward, _chère_ ,” he ordered softly, strong hand pressing lightly at the small of her back. She mewled as her aching nipples brushed against the cold granite surface.

“Such a pretty sound, _chère..._ ” his knee nudged her thighs apart lightly, long fingers gliding forward over her hip, curving around to burrow into her cleft. “Ah, and so wet. Is this all for Remy?”

Darcy had to drop her head forward, rest her brow on the counter as well as he removed his fingers and she heard him lick at them, making “Mm mm,” sounds as he sucked them into his mouth sensuously.

“Please,” was all she could manage to say, a pathetic little whimper. “God, Remy, _please.”_

She heard his fingers come out of his mouth with a _pop,_ just before both strong hands settled on her hips and his knees moved between hers, pushing her thighs a little further apart.

“Such a pretty sight,” Remy murmured, looking down at the beautiful woman presenting herself for him, awaiting his pleasure; the full curves of her ass in his hands, her tiny waist, her dark hair tumbling over her pale shoulders. “So beautiful, ma _chère_.” Bending his knees, he rubbed the tip of his swollen cock slowly through Darcy’s cleft, making sure that he glanced over her clit with each long, measured stroke, until she was sobbing and writhing against his hands and his cock was dripping wet with her slick. Finally, when she was almost fighting him, desperate with need, he shifted his position and pushed straight up into her with one long, firm thrust.

Darcy almost went into orbit as Remy filled her at last, the head of his cock rubbing firmly right where she needed it. She clawed desperately at the countertop, trying to find some purchase on the slick surface to push back against his thrusts, but Remy had everything under control, handling her almost like a rag doll, his strong hands clamping her hips to hold her exactly where she wanted to.

Wracking screams burst from Darcy’s lips as Remy pounded mercilessly into her. It felt so good, so incredibly good; she was helpless to stave off the climax, the fireworks that burst behind her eyes intensely bright.

Remy groaned as Darcy’s hot, wet passage clenched around him. She was so sensitive, his beautiful girl; the feel of her coming on his cock was utterly spectacular. Clenching his teeth, he waited her out, waited until she slumped forward onto the counter before gently withdrawing and picking her up in his arms.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, _chère_. I haven’t had my fill of your sweetness for tonight, yet.”

“You’d better bring the chocolate,” Darcy mumbled, nestling into his arms. “I have the feeling I’m gonna need a sugar hit pretty soon!”


	109. CaptainQuakeBones for a-nerdy-kat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 1 -** _author’s choice prompt, CaptainQuakeBones for a-nerdy-kat_
> 
> _I chose “And how are you going to make it up to me?”_
> 
> _And then I dived into the smut gutter :)_

“Where the _hell_ have you two been?”

Trying to sneak into the apartment into the middle of the night, Steve and Brock both froze guiltily.

“Uh-oh,” Steve muttered under his breath.

The lamp beside the bed clicked on and the light in the room showed them Daisy sitting up in bed, glaring at them with a highly indignant expression on her face.

“We had some stuff to take care of,” Brock tried, since Steve was just standing there looking horribly guilty.

Daisy folded her arms. “ _Stuff_ to take care of? You disappeared a _week_ ago without a word to anyone!”

“You’d have tried to stop us if you knew what we were doing,” Steve said. Too late, Brock elbowed him in the ribs to be quiet.

Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “And what exactly _is it_ that you were doing?”

“Shut up and let me handle this,” Brock said under his breath, moving towards the bed and putting on a winning smile. “Baby. We thought we’d only be gone a couple of days.”

She wasn’t about to be deflected. “Don’t you _baby_ me. Where have you been?”

“Ian Quinn,” Brock admitted, sat down on the bed and reached for Daisy when her face paled. “ _That’s_ why we didn’t tell you, baby. He surfaced again. Coulson thought we should know before you found out.”

Steve sat on the other side of her, arms wrapping around her from behind. “It took a bit longer than we expected to track him down.”

She was shaking slightly, their Daisy who feared nothing, and Brock knew a moment of murderous rage.

“I think we killed him too fast,” he said without thinking.

“H-he’s dead?” Daisy whispered through trembling lips.

“I’ve rarely seen anyone quite as dead as that, actually,” Steve said drily. “Brock was quite thorough enough, I promise you.”

“Oh, God,” a tear trickled down her cheek, and Brock kissed it away gently, whispering to her not to cry. “You - you two idiots,” she choked out finally. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because you’d either have wanted to come along or spent the whole time worrying about us needlessly?” Steve suggested, stroking his fingers through her hair, leaning in to kiss her neck. “Missed you,” he whispered.

“I worried about you anyway when the two of you just took off without a word!” Daisy said crossly, trying to blink back the tears. She took a deep breath, let out with it a tension she hadn’t known she’d been carrying for almost three long years, ever since Ian Quinn had looked in her eyes and shot her in the guts. “He’s really dead?”

“Very, very dead,” Brock promised.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking up into his gold-brown eyes. She had no doubt that Steve had probably wanted to drag Quinn back for trial, that it would have been Brock who refused to let that happen, refused to put Daisy through that.

“You’re welcome, baby,” he smiled before leaning in to kiss her.

“I’m still mad with you both for taking off without telling anyone, though!” she said a minute or so later, when he lifted his head. Glancing back over her shoulder towards Steve, who looked a bit sheepish, she smiled coquettishly and said “What are you going to do to make it up to me, huh?”

Steve smiled, relieved that there was no true annoyance in her tone. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something. We missed a week of making love to you - perhaps we can try and fit a week’s worth of lovemaking into one night?”

“Now _there’s_ a damn good plan,” Brock agreed, grinning. “I am down with that idea. How about you, baby?”

Daisy managed a smile. “I’m not sure I would survive that.”

“We’d make sure you went out with a smile on your face,” Brock tugged down the sheet, chuckled quietly on discovering that she was wearing one of Steve’s T-shirts and a pair of his jockey shorts. “Aww. That is so sweet. You really did miss us.”

“Shurrup,” she muttered, face scalding, kicking her feet at him. He grabbed them quickly, tugging the shorts down with a laugh, evading her hands. Steve caught her wrists and brought them together behind her back, chuckling quietly in her ear.

“Hush now, darlin’. Let us make up for our absence. Properly.”

She wriggled, but wasn’t seriously trying to get away. Not with Brock’s hands gliding up her inner thighs, his mouth pressing hot kisses in their wake. Steve nibbled at her ear, shifting his grip to hold both her wrists in one hand, the other reaching to pluck at the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it up above her breasts, then over her head, leaving her arms caught in the sleeves. A couple of deft twists of the fabric and her arms were quite neatly tied behind her back, leaving Steve’s hands free to cup her breasts, tweak her nipples in his strong fingers.

About all Daisy could say was “Oh my god,” as Brock’s mouth reached its destination, and Steve pulled her backward to give Brock better access, tugging on her nipples to make her arch upwards.

“Don’t take His name in vain,” Steve chided.

“Huh,” Daisy groaned as Brock started nibbling on her clit, two thick fingers sliding stealthily inside her. “Don’t be a - _uhhh_ \- hypocrite. You say far worse when Brock’s got that mouth on your cock.”

Steve didn’t bother trying to deny it, just busied himself pinching and tugging on Daisy’s nipples, sucking a love bite into her throat as Brock worked her clit hard with his tongue, lapping and slurping greedily. She was soon sobbing and twisting between them, desperately in need of release, but Brock wouldn’t quite let her tip over. Not yet. Instead he thrust his fingers slowly inside her until she was absolutely sopping, juices dribbling down over his hand.

“Feeling good?” Steve whispered in her ear. “Something you need, darlin’?”

“Please,” she moaned, “please, I need it, please fuck me.”

“How do you want it, baby?” Brock lifted his mouth from her long enough to ask. His lips and chin were wet with her slick; Steve grunted at the sight and beckoned. Brock grinned and got to his feet, leaning over so that Steve could kiss him sloppily, licking at the taste of Daisy on his skin, making sounds of pleasure as he did so.

Brock hadn’t removed his fingers, his thumb flicking lightly over Daisy’s clit as he kissed Steve. She looked up at the sight of the two of them kissing over her shoulder and moaned.

“No fair! You two have had each other to fuck all this last week, I’ve been all alone!”

“Oh, like you didn’t use your toys when you got bored,” Brock said with a snort of disbelief, pulling back from Steve to look down at her.

“It’s not the same,” Daisy grumbled.

“Not the same as a pair of nice thick cocks stuffing you full, huh?” Brock nodded at Steve, who shifted out from under Daisy and made quick work of stripping off his clothes. “What do you want, Steve? Since you let me kill Quinn I’ll be generous and let you pick.”

“This beautiful ass,” Steve lost no time in pulling Daisy back onto his lap once he was nude. “She’s been squirming it all over me.”

“Well, I got it nice and wet for you. You been keeping your ass open for us, baby? Using your toys?”

Daisy bit down on her lower lip as Steve drew her slowly, gently back onto his cock. She had been using her toys, indeed she’d been wearing a plug most of the week, enjoying the feel of something inside her, missing her two lovers badly. Steve still stretched her ass wide though, even with how much of her own slick Brock had worked over her there was a slight, deliciously painful burn. Groans and whimpers spilled from her lips, making Brock curse under his breath as he stood and quickly dragged off his own clothes.

“Christ, the pair of you are so fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, and Steve was so lost in the sensation of Daisy’s ass squeezing tightly on his cock he didn’t even comment on Brock’s filthy mouth. Daisy was arched back over Steve’s body because of her hands still secured behind her, her erect nipples pointing stiffly at the ceiling, her dark hair spilling over Steve’s chest. “Go on, sweetheart, take him deep, take it all. You know how good it feels.”

Hearing Steve’s low groan, Brock leaned over and pressed a firm finger against the base of his balls. “Don’t you dare come in her until I get in too,” he said sternly.

“Then hurry the fuck up,” Steve said hoarsely, making Brock grin as Steve’s profanity filter failed entirely.

“Language,” Brock said teasingly.

“Fuck off!” Steve snarled in response as Daisy finally slipped all the way down on him, the tight ring of muscle of her ass clenching hard on the root of his cock as she moaned and came, making Steve swear again, repeatedly. Brock laughed, kneeling between Steve’s thighs, bending down to lick and bite at one of Daisy’s nipples, pressing his cock slowly into her pulsing, clenching pussy.

Steve cursed again, even more luridly, as Daisy tightened down on him even further, completely full with both of them pushed deep inside her.

“Where _did_ you learn all those filthy words?” Brock chuckled a little hoarsely.

“Your mouth,” Steve grunted back, his hands coming up from Daisy’s ass to cup and tweak her breasts again. She was moaning and gasping both their names, still quivering, unable to come down from the agonising high of the orgasm as Brock’s slow thrusts and Steve’s playing with her nipples kept her at the peak.

“So good, baby,” Brock whispered, nipping at her throat as his hips rocked, thrusting slowly in and out of her, his hands on her hips shifting her on Steve’s cock as well. “Missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” Daisy panted, “please, Brock, please…”

“Greedy girl,” pleas and desperate groans were coming from Steve on the bottom too. “You just hang in there another minute,” Brock told him. “We’re gonna fill her up together next time she comes, okay? Let her milk it all out of you.”

Steve threw his head back against the pillows, clenching his teeth in a desperate effort to stave off the climax threatening to erupt. Seeing his strain, Brock thrust harder into Daisy, rocking and tilting his hips, making sure that he glanced against her G-spot with every stroke. She shrieked with pleasure as the second wave of orgasm hit, her screams joining with Steve’s cries as he lost it as well.

Brock could actually feel Steve’s cock pulsing over the thin wall of flesh separating them, around Daisy’s own gripping, clenching internal muscles. Seeing both of the two faces he loved so well contorted with ecstasy, feeling them both come, was more than enough to set him off too. He roared with pleasure, hips jerking as his seed jetted hotly into the hot, welcoming clasp of Daisy’s body.

“Missed you much,” he whispered again, finally, against Daisy’s throat, heard Steve murmur an affirmative agreement. “So sorry we left you alone without telling you where we were going, baby.”

She smiled without opening her eyes as he slowly pressed kisses against her jaw and neck, both his and Steve’s hands stroking gently over her body. “I think I’m coming around to the idea of forgiving you. Maybe.”

“Well, we’ll just have to try harder then, won’t we?” Brock grinned wickedly.


	110. Maria Hill/Wade Wilson for whedonista93

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 3** \- _"You know I dream of you?", Maria Hill/Wade Wilson for whedonista93_
> 
> _Messed with the wording slightly to fit with what I wanted to do :D_

“You know I dreamed about you last night,” Maria said when she walked into her office to find Wade sitting on her desk. He was swinging his legs like a kid and eating all of the red M&Ms she kept in her emergency chocolate stash jar in the hidden floor safe nobody but Stark knew about.

“Oooh,” Wade said brightly, “was it a _good_ kind of dream?” He had his mask off to eat, waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Maria had to laugh. Reclaiming her jar of M&Ms, she walked around her desk and shook her head on seeing the open safe. “Please tell me the only thing you took out of here was my chocolate?”

“Didn’t see anything else interesting,” Wade shrugged, hopping down off the desk and coming up behind her as she knelt to replace the jar. “Tell me about this dream of yours. I like the idea that I’m in your dreams. Although I’m just wondering if it was me or one of the boxes.”

“Boxes…? No, never mind.” She closed the safe and stood up, turning to face him. “No, I’m pretty sure it was you, Wade.”

“So tell me about it,” he sat back down on her desk, giving her an expectant look. “I love stories! Especially if I’m in them!”

Smiling, she took a seat in her office chair, knowing all too well that she wouldn’t get rid of him out of her office until she’d told him. “Before I do, were you here for any other reason than to steal my chocolate?”

“Nope!” Wade shook his head.

“You didn’t think that cracking my safe was a lot of effort to go to just to get some M&Ms when you could have walked to the 7-Eleven on the next block?”

“Yes but then I’d have had to go out of the building, and it’s raining.”

Maria shook her head with a little smile. “I don’t know why I ask. Your logic never makes any sense.”

“It absolutely does! To _me_ ,” Wade said indignantly.

“...never mind. Okay. So the dream. It was really odd, actually, I was at my high school reunion…”

“ _You_ went to high school?”

“Of course I went to high school!”

“Okay. I just thought that you might actually be a super-AI in a bangin’ human body like Tony keeps sayin’ he’s gonna give FRIDAY.”

“...Stark says what?” Maria’s lips firmed and she made a mental note to go and head off _that_ particular bad idea as soon as possible. “Anyway. No, I’m not an AI, Wade, and yes, I did go to high school. I made the stupid mistake of going to the ten-year reunion and I have no _intention_ of going to the fifteen-year-one whose invite arrived in the mail yesterday, which is _clearly_ why I dreamed about it.”

“Why was it a mistake to go to the ten year one? I mean, you’re gorgeous, you’re successful…”

“And I couldn’t tell anyone what I really do.”

“...oh.”

“I don’t know what possessed me to go anyway. Boredom, probably. _Anyway_ ,” she gave him a severe look for sidetracking her, and Wade shivered with delight, “I was at my high school reunion and for some really odd reason, you were there and you turned out to have been at my high school too. On the football team.”

“I was a popular kid!” Wade fist-pumped victoriously. “Yeah! Wait, were you a popular kid too?”

“No, I was a bookish nerd.”

“Aww. Wait, I know! We could have had an amazing romance where I was the one who saw your Inner Beauty behind your nerdiness and there was an amazing montage scene where you got transformed from the ugly duckling into the swan you are today and I took you to the prom and we were prom King and Queen!” He nodded and smiled eagerly.

Maria stared at him. “You know, Wade, I kind of find myself wishing that had actually happened,” she said a little wistfully, remembering the misery that her prom had been.

She was surprised when he leaned forward and took her hand. “I wish it had happened too,” he told her sincerely. “Maybe in some parallel universe it did, and Other Wade and Other Maria are happily married and raising a passel of kids on a ranch somewhere.”

“... you’re not serious.”

“Sure I am! You’re brilliant so you’d be the breadwinner with the high-powered job and I’d be the devoted house husband looking after the kids, and every night when you got home from work I’d have a delicious dinner made for us all, and once we’d got the kids settled I’d carry you off to bed and make sweet, sweet love to you until you fell asleep.”

“Oh, Wade.” Smiling, she shook her head. “Your imagination is quite something.”

“I know That’s parallel Other Universe you and me, but we could still have a little bit of that in this universe?” He gave her a hopeful look.

“No ranch and kids, what’s left?” Maria frowned, bemused.

“The part where I carry you off to bed and make sweet, sweet love to you?”

“... I gotta say that I have to give you points for trying. You might even be winning me over a little bit.”

Wade fist-pumped again. “I’ll cook you dinner first, too! Come by my place tonight, seven o’clock!”

He darted out of the office before Maria could even make up her mind. Smiling, she reached out to boot up her computer. Maybe she _would_ go by his place tonight, after all.

 


	111. Remy/Darcy for digital-pinapple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 4** - _Remy/Darcy for digital-pinapple_
> 
> _I chose “Nothing risqué, nothing gained” because it’s a prompt I haven’t done yet, and also it’s such a Remy kind of attitude._

“Darce, your admirer’s here,” Jane said behind her.

“Who? Oh, LeBeau,” Darcy smiled as she saw Remy entering the lab, pausing to say hi to Erik. “He’s not my admirer.”

“It sure sounds like he is,” Jane said dryly. “I’ve never seen a man flirt so much.”

“He flirts with everything with a pulse.”

“Not me!”

“Well that’s because Thor threatened to fry his nuts with lightning if he so much as looked at you sideways,” Darcy rolled her eyes at Jane. “Pretty sure Remy values his _equipment_ too highly to risk it.”

That sent Jane off into giggles, so much that she hurried away past Remy as he approached with her fingers stuffed in her mouth and her shoulders shaking.

“Dr Foster, she is alright?” Remy looked back at the retreating Jane.

“She’s fine.” Darcy offered him a smile. “We were just discussing your _equipment_ and your apparent determination to wear it out with constant use.”

Remy’s brows shot up before he laughed, a low, rich chuckle that made Darcy’s insides twist in a knot. _I am not going to fall for that lethal Cajun charm_ , she told herself sternly. But it was very difficult to remember that when Remy leaned over and said in her ear, in that deep, caramel voice of his;

“I am glad to know that you take such an interest in my _equipment_ and its usage, _ma belle_.”

“Oh, shut up, or I’ll tase you in it.” She couldn’t help grinning as she turned back to her work. “Why are you even here, anyway? Or did you just stop by to flirt and make innuendoes at me again?”

“It is the highlight of my day, the chance to flirt with you, _ma belle_.” He leaned down behind her again, breath tickling her ear. “After all, nothing risqué, nothing gained. If I do not let you know what I wish for, how can you decide if you are willing to indulge me?”

“You’re a slut, Remy,” the smile refused to leave her face, though. His attentions were flattering, she couldn’t deny it.

“ _Ma belle_ , you wound me!”

With a sigh, Darcy turned around and poked her finger into Remy’s chest, looking up into his hell-cored eyes.

“Live with it, LeBeau. This girl ain’t falling for your smooth ways.”

Remy immediately looked thoughtful. “You do not like smooth? How about rough? I could do rough.” He moved so quickly that Darcy’s head spun, and once she recovered she found that she was bent back over Remy’s arm, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. Her heart began to pound, her face flushing.

 _I should tell him to let go of me. I should tell him not to touch me…_ her mouth was being traitorously uncooperative. Instead, she licked her lips, unbearably tempted.

“Darcy,” he said her name, a soft brush of air against her lips, his voice lower, rougher than it had been just moments before. Closing her eyes, she parted her lips, giving him tacit permission to kiss her.


	112. WinterWaitress for kathryn-claire-oconnor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 5** \- _“Why are you looking at me like that?” WinterWaitress for kathryn-claire-oconnor_
> 
> _(you have the same birthday as my darling husband btw)_

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Wh-what?” Bucky blinked, stuttered, as Beth suddenly rounded on him.

“You know I’m not dangerous. I was vetted up, down and sideways by SI before I was allowed anywhere near you guys. Any of you could kill me with your little finger while blindfolded and standing on your head. So why do you keep _watching_ me?” Beth put her hands on her hips and glared at Bucky. It was a most unnerving habit of his. He never took his eyes off her when they were in the same room together, though he never spoke a word to you apart from a muttered _thank you_ when she handed him his coffee. She’d finally had enough

To her utter astonishment, he flushed bright red. “I know you’re not dangerous,” he mumbled. “Not that way, anyway.”

“What?” Astonished, Beth blinked at him, dropping her hands from her hips. “Me? I’m not dangerous in _any_ way! What possible way could _I_ be dangerous to _you_?”

Bucky’s flush hadn’t faded; he scrubbed his hands awkwardly through his hair. “Dangerous to my peace of mind,” he finally admitted. “I can’t look away from you, Beth, because you’re the most beautiful woman I know; you’re so graceful, so…” helpless to explain, he shrugged. “You just… you fascinate me.”

Beth’s jaw dropped even further as Bucky spoke. She couldn’t believe that this was Bucky Barnes, the _Winter Soldier_ , saying these things about _her_. “What?” was all she said, numbly, when he stuttered to a halt.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he mumbled, looking down at his metal hand resting on his lap, the fingers shifting slightly, the machinery whining faintly. “I know you’re not interested in me, couldn’t be…”

“Why not?” Beth interrupted him.

“Huh?” he looked up to meet her eyes again, frowned with confusion.

“Why do you say I couldn’t be interested in you?”

“Well, I’m…” he gestured with the cyber arm, “frankly I’m a wreck. A former assassin, still blamed for so many deaths…”

“Not by me.” Beth took a few steps closer, reached out to lay her hand gently over the shifting metal fingers, still him. “I don’t blame you for what you had no choice in doing. You were made into a weapon, and you can’t blame the gun for killing people. Only the shooter.”

“Yeah, but it was my finger pulling the trigger,” Bucky pointed out.

“No it wasn’t! Well, maybe literally, but you were… a marionette, with Hydra pulling the strings. You had no choice but to dance to their tune, Bucky. I know that, believe me.”

Looking into her clear blue eyes, Bucky realised that she was telling the truth, that she really didn’t put any blame on him for the things he had done. Not only that, but she’d called him by name for the first time ever, and he thrilled to the sound of his name on her lips.

Beth smiled at Bucky as he gazed at her, his expression vulnerable. “I find it incredible that you think you would somehow not be good enough for me. I’m just ordinary, you’re a superhero, an Avenger… it’s _me_ who’s not in _your_ league.”

His bright blue eyes searched hers, he swallowed nervously. “You - you mean that?”

“I do.” His obvious insecurity gave her the courage to say “So if you like… maybe we could go get coffee somewhere else other than here sometime?”

“Like a _date_?” Bucky looked positively amazed.

“If you’d like?”

“Holy moly, yes! Who’d turn down a date with _you_?”

Beth giggled a little at that, blushing. “I could say the same thing about you.”

They were still holding hands and staring at each other when Scott and Sam came clattering loudly in about ten minutes later.


	113. Sabertooth/Ward/Wanda for aliitvodeson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Bonus prompt** \- _"Eyes up now. Look at me.” Sabertooth/Ward/Wanda for aliitvodeson_
> 
>  
> 
> _An extension of the[Little Lost Sometimes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/10408611) AU. _

Grant only dimly heard Wanda’s frightened shriek in the distance as the huge man he suddenly found himself facing swatted his gun out of his hand and backhanded him almost casually into a wall.

 _Holy crap, even Rogers doesn’t hit that hard,_ Grant thought dizzily as he slumped towards the ground. His chest hurt like hell, he was pretty sure he had at least a few fractured ribs from that hit. His assailant took a step forward, stood towering above him. Grant looked up into golden eyes, saw fangs bared as the man smiled.

 _Oh well, at least I wasn’t outmatched by a regular human._ He knew he was one of the very best, but he also knew that he was absolutely no match for an enhanced. A gigantic boot lifted, probably to kick his head hard into the wall - he doubted he’d survive it…

An explosion of red light made him squeeze his eyes shut, temporarily blinded. The boot didn’t connect, though. He heard a loud roar of fury.

“You’ll pay for that, girl!”

Despite his pain, his concern for Wanda going up against a superhuman as powerful as the fanged man, Grant gasped in shock, because he knew those words. They were written in rough spiky letters on the back of Wanda’s left thigh.

“Don’t hurt her,” he choked out as loudly as he could, struggling to his feet and staggering towards the huge figure he could barely make out towering over Wanda’s more delicate figure. Blinking frantically to try and clear his vision, he reached out, caught onto the massive hand that had closed on Wanda’s throat. “You mustn’t hurt her.”

Victor froze as the injured human, stumbling with his injuries, put two hands on his and said one set of his soulwords. Looking at the slight mutant female who’d prevented him from delivering the killing blow to the man, choking in his grip, his fingers opened almost without thought and he let her tumble to the ground.

“Speak,” he snarled, nudging at the girl with his toe as the man crouched down beside her.

“She can’t, you asshole, you fucking choked her!” came a defiant response, even though the man then started coughing, spitting blood after it.

“I can,” Wanda could barely whisper around a swollen larynx. She reached out a small hand, grasped at Victor’s trouser leg. “My name is Wanda,” she whispered.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Victor snarled out, before kneeling down beside both of them. “And you?” he addressed Grant directly.

“Ward, Grant Ward.” Grant coughed again, spat more blood.

“He’s badly hurt,” Wanda turned huge green eyes up to Victor. “We need to get him to our medical facility.”

Victor bit on his lip, looked at Grant, who seemed on the verge of passing out, slumped against Wanda. “Eyes up now,” he touched the other man’s chin gently. “Look at me. If I pick you up, are any of those ribs gonna shift and do serious damage?”

“Think I already did it,” Grant whispered thinly.

“Punctured lung,” Victor diagnosed, sniffing at the blood Grant spat after another wracking cough. “We gotta move.”

“Please be careful,” Wanda said as Victor carefully slid his arms around Grant and stood up, carrying him easily despite his height and solidity. “We only just found each other, as well as you. I don’t want to find both my soulmates only to lose one.”

Victor looked down at her as she trotted alongside him, pointing him towards their car. “You ain’t gonna lose either of us today,” he said gruffly. “Been waiting a long time to meet you, Wanda. And him.” He was very gentle as he laid Grant down on the backseat. “Always knew I’d be a threat to you, but I didn’t think I’d already have half-killed him first.”

“You weren’t to know.” Wanda touched his wrist lightly as he closed the rear door. “He’ll be okay. We don’t have far to go and the Cradle can take care of his injuries.”

Victor seemed to hesitate then, taking a step back as though to retreat, but her fingers curled around his wrist. “If you help me, that is. There’s a problem, you see. I can’t drive.”

Victor muttered a curse under his breath, nodded finally. “Alright. Just tell me where to go.”

He didn’t see Wanda’s small smile as she hurried around to get in the passenger seat. “Of course,” she said brightly as he started the engine. “Just follow my directions and everything will be _just fine_.”


	114. Grant Ward/Wanda Maximoff for lark-cale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Bonus prompt** \- _Grant Ward/Wanda Maximoff for the prompt “I’d hold onto something if I were you” for lark-cale_
> 
> In the _[Little Lost Sometimes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/10408611)_ ‘verse. 

Some nights, when it all just got too much and he needed solitude, needed to be away from the other Avengers despite their friendly acceptance of him, Grant would go outside and lie on the grass, just watching the stars. He wasn’t the only one who liked to do something of the sort, he knew. Clint liked the rooftop, which was exactly why Grant didn’t go up there. Barnes had a preference for being up in the trees - his sniper habits showing. Rogers and Wilson both liked to run - at vastly different speeds, but run nonetheless. He wasn’t too sure what Romanoff did when she needed space. She just disappeared.

“Grant?” a soft voice interrupted his communal with the stars, and he sat up abruptly, to see Wanda walking barefoot across the grass towards him. She was wearing a long red gown that swished around her ankles; she looked young and very beautiful.

“Wanda.” He smiled at her as she walked closer. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “With me, yes, but you’ve been out here a long time. Are you all right?”

He had no secrets from her. There was no point; she could have reached into his mind and taken them at any time. This one wasn’t a secret, though. Just something he’d never thought to speak of to her.

“It’s my birthday,” he admitted.

Wanda looked first startled, and then horrified. Crouching before him, her dress pooling around her, she reached to take his hands. “Grant, my love! I had no idea!”

“Birthdays haven’t ever been a cause of celebration for me,” he said painfully. “Growing up - well, my family made them pretty unpleasant.”

“I understand,” Wanda said quietly. “Birthdays were special when I was small, when my parents were alive, but after - well, Pietro and I always had each other. The next birthday is one I do not look forward to, at all.”

Grant smiled tightly back at her. “Just one more thing we have in common.”

She squeezed his hands gently, gazing into his eyes before suddenly smiling. “Perhaps I can do something to improve today for you, at least.”

His brow furrowed briefly, and then his eyes widened as she moved, sliding gracefully forward to straddle his thighs, her groin pressing against his. Slender hands curled around his wrists, pulling them up above his head.

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Wanda said teasingly, tracing her fingers lightly back down his arms, caressing the bulging muscles emerging from the sleeves of his T-shirt.

“What, grass?” Grant said laughingly, though he stopped as she deliberately sank sharp black-painted fingernails into his arm. Lacing his fingers together, he relaxed, let her do as she wished with him, though the tension in another part of his body was growing as Wanda rolled her hips against him, leaned down to rub her breasts on his chest, teeth nipping lightly at his neck.

Grant had to dig deep into his legendary self-control to keep himself from grabbing Wanda and flipping her under him. She was quite clearly reading his mind, because she chuckled throatily against his neck, just before he felt something warm and implacably strong coil around his wrists.

“What…” he looked up to see a red glow around his wrists, pinning them to the ground. “Wanda!”

“Now you don’t have to worry about it,” was all she said before her hands slipped beneath his shirt to stroke over his abs, unbuckle his belt. “Just relax and let me give you a really nice birthday present.”


	115. Darcy/Remy/Rumlow for reprehensiblewombat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Bonus ficlet** \- _Darcy/Remy/Rumlow "You're very sexy when you're angry" for reprehensiblewombat_

**Bonus ficlet** \- _Darcy/Remy/Rumlow "You're very sexy when you're angry" for reprehensiblewombat_

“Remy Etienne LeBeau!” Darcy’s furious shout echoed through the apartment as she slammed the door behind her.

“Ooh, she sounds mad,” Brock grinned across at Remy, selecting an apple from the bowl on the kitchen counter and polishing it on his shirt. “Prepare to grovel.”

“Remy does not grovel,” but the Cajun looked unsure of himself, for once. Brock smirked, pushing himself up onto the kitchen counter and preparing to enjoy the show.

“You,” Darcy stopped in the kitchen door, pointed at Remy.

“ _Moi_?” Remy offered his best innocent smile.

“Do you have _any idea_ what you’ve done?”

“Remy has done many things, _p’tite_. Which one is bothering you today?” Remy tried a smooth smile. Darcy’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare pull that on me, you know very well what you’ve done. Stark just cut Jane’s lab budget in half, and when I asked him why, he said he needed to recoup his losses somehow! How much did you take him for?”

“Three and a half,” Rumlow put in helpfully before crunching into his apple.

“Three and a half what?” Darcy frowned, turned the frown on Remy. “Three hundred and fifty _thousand_?” Her eyes went very wide.

Realizing he was in the doghouse no matter what he did, Remy decided to come clean and own his victory. “ _Non, p’tite_ , Remy does not play for such small stakes. Three and a half _million_.”

Darcy clapped a hand over her mouth, a high-pitched whistling sound emerging from around her fingers before she dropped her hand and shrieked “HOW much?”

Remy shrugged, spread his fingers. “Stark chose to go all in, _p’tite_ , Remy did not force him.”

“It was a bad call,” Brock agreed, between bites of his apple. “Stark had two pair, but Remy had a full house.”

“And _you_ ,” Darcy rounded on him, “what part did you play in this?”

“Don’t look at me!” Brock finished his apple, tossed the core neatly into the bin. “I lost all my money early in the game. Good thing we have Remy to pay the rent, eh, darlin’?”

She sputtered furiously, red-faced.

“How much did Stark cut from the lab budget?” Remy asked.

“A hundred and twenty-five thousand! Jane’s apoplectic!”

“I’ll make it up,” Remy promised. “And more, if she needs.”

“Hmm,” Darcy didn’t look much mollified.

Brock finally took pity on a now very sheepish-looking Remy and decided to help him out. Slipping off the counter, he moved towards Darcy in a slow, predatory stalk.

“You’re very sexy when you’re angry,” he told her.

Thrown, Darcy blinked up at him. “I… am?”

“Mm hmm. All passionate and fierce.” Brock’s voice lowered to a husky rumble, his arm snaked around her waist. Leaning in close, he licked her earlobe before whispering in her ear “You should punish Remy for being a bad boy. Let all that anger out in a healthy way.”

Darcy shivered as Brock moved around behind her, pulling her close against his warm, muscled bulk. “Got any ideas?” she asked, her voice high and breathy. Remy was watching them both, his own eyes wide, lips parted.

“Maybe a few.” Leaning in even closer, he whispered softly in her ear. Darcy began to smile. The longer Brock went on, the wider Darcy’s grin grew, and the more nervous Remy looked.

“You have some very excellent ideas,” Darcy said finally, turning to smile up at Brock. Looking back at Remy, she pointed at him. “You. Naked. Bed. Right now.”

Remy jumped and scuttled hastily towards the bedroom, making Brock and Darcy both laugh. Brock let go of Darcy and headed for the fridge. “You go tie him up,” he told Darcy. “I’ll get the whipped cream.”


	116. Steve/Bucky/Sif for brokengem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 9** \- _“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Steve/Bucky/Sif for brokengem_
> 
> _Changed the wording slightly to fit the context._

“How _could_ you?” Steve asked in disbelief.

“How was I to know that is not common custom on Midgard?” Sif said indignantly.

“Because Bucky should have told you!”

“Um,” Bucky said.

“Don’t even think about trying to claim it would have been perfectly fine in 1943!”

Steve stared them both down, hands on hips, looking for all the world like an indignant mother hen. Sif and Bucky both ducked their heads sheepishly, but Steve saw the sideways glance full of laughter they cast each other.

“I had to spend an _hour_ listening to Nick Fury rant about the headache your little stunt caused him. I didn’t know there were that many swear words in the _world_.”

Bucky did laugh out loud at that. “You still tryin’ to convince people that you think ‘damn’ is a dirty word, Stevie?”

“Only Stark. But seriously, Buck, Fury could teach the Howlies a few things about how to cuss.”

Bucky looked moderately impressed at that. Sif was starting to look genuinely contrite.

“I am sorry, Steven. The Furious One in a rage is a fearsome sight.”

“I think my ears actually blistered.” Steve smiled slightly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was a pretty impressive race, the two of you free-climbing up the outside of Avengers Tower...”

“And I won,” Sif said proudly.

“... but you caused most of Midtown to come to a standstill while everyone watched.“

“As is tradition for such contests of strength and speed,” Sif nodded. “Like your ‘Olympics’.”

“Sif, they are _scheduled_. Everything is arranged in advance, the streets are cleared, TV cameras are set up - two news helicopters nearly _crashed_ yesterday trying to film you, Vision and Stark had to grab one of them before it hit the Tower!”

“Oh,” she suddenly looked as though she understood. “Oh. I see.”

“I’ve spent all morning dealing with the fallout.”

“I am very sorry, Steven,” she looked stricken. “I did not intend to cause trouble.”

She never did, Steve knew, but she was accustomed to an entirely different society, with very different rules and social customs.  Bucky, though… Bucky had no such excuse. He was looking at least a _little_ penitent, this time anyway.

“So how are you going to make it up to me?” Steve said, playing up his outrage for all he was worth.

Sif frowned in thought, but Bucky grinned. He knew how this game went.

“Oh,” he said, “I’m sure Sif and I can come up with something you’d like.”

“Perhaps we could make one of his favourite dishes?” Sif suggested.

Steve bit on his lip to hide the smile. Bucky leaned over and whispered in Sif’s ear.

“Oh,” she said, beginning to smile too. “Oh, I had not thought of _that_.”

“ _That_ is what the punk had in mind all along,” Bucky smirked. “Ain’t it, Stevie?”

The two of them were moving towards him now, wearing identical wolfish expressions. Steve smiled, let himself relax onto the couch. “It did occur to me that I’d worked up some tension you guys could maybe help me with, yeah.”

“Relaxing in this manner is a Midgardian tradition I enjoy greatly,” Sif said cheerfully, her deft hands setting to work on the buttons of Steve’s shirt while Bucky pulled his boots off.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, dropping the boots aside and sliding a wicked hand up Steve’s inner thigh, “at least one muscle’s _real_ tense.”

“Perhaps we should concentrate on that one, then,” Sif suggested, making Steve groan as she slid down across his lap, reached to unfasten his belt. “I’m sure between us, we can help Steven relax, can we not?”

“I think we can give it a damn good try,” Bucky agreed laughingly.


	117. Pietro/Darcy, for appalachian-apathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 10** \- _“I am always looking for meaningful one night stands", Pietro/Darcy, for appalachian-apathy_

“Give it back,” Darcy said without even looking around.

“No.”

“Give it back or I’ll tell Wanda you’re using your superspeed to sexually harass me.”

“Oh, now that is harsh.” He did zoom up beside her and put the smoothie cup back down, though. “I would not do that, _princeza_.”

“So I definitely didn’t feel your hand pat my ass just before you stole my smoothie?” Darcy grabbed the cup up and took a suck on the straw, arching a cynical eyebrow at him.

Pietro had the grace to look a little sheepish. “It’s appreciation. I do not mean to offend, Darcy. You do have a very beautiful ass.”

“So do you,” she conceded, and she’d patted it a time or two when she’d had the chance as well. They had a kind of mutual flirting game going on, but she suspected that it was largely because she was basically the only female his age in the facility, other than his sister of course. “All right, you’re forgiven for the ass pat, but stay the hell away from my smoothie, buster.”

He sighed dramatically. “I need the calories!”

“It’s a low-fat, low sugar fruit smoothie, you idiot. Go make yourself one of those protein thingies.”

“Yours tastes better.”

“Oh stop it. You’re a dreadful flirt.”

“Don’t I know it, _princeza_ , because otherwise you would have been in my bed long before now.”

Frowning, because that remark had almost sounded serious, Darcy turned to look at Pietro curiously. He was leaning one hip against her desk, his arms folded across his chest. Wearing one of his usual tight stretchy shirts, as usual his biceps and shoulders bulged sexily through the thin fabric, drawing her eyes.

“Pietro, you and me, that is not a thing that would ever work. You’re a superhero and I’m just… ordinary. It’d be a one-night-stand.”

“Well, I am always looking for meaningful one-night-stands, if that is all that you can offer, _princeza_.” His blue eyes, for once, held not a hint of laughter as he looked down at her. “As for you being ordinary - ah, Darcy. You are so very far from that.”


	118. Victor/Darcy for pepsi-max

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 10** \- _Victor/Darcy “I’d hold onto something if I were you” for pepsi-max_
> 
> Continues from this chapter

 

Victor carried Darcy straight back to their apartment. She just about managed to give the door a push to close it behind them, not wanting anyone to see the open door and think it an invitation to enter. The noises she suspected they were about to make would probably put them off, anyway… her train of thought cut off as Victor literally tossed her on the bed.

“Hey!” she protested as she bounced on the mattress.

“Get those clothes off before I shred yet another set,” Victor retorted, but his eyes were glinting with humour and she could tell that he wasn’t serious.

Well. Not _very_ serious. He was shucking his own clothes pretty rapidly, and Darcy knew from experience that if she didn’t get a move on, he’d end up losing patience and her clothes _would_ get wrecked. She’d used to put on old things whenever Victor arrived home, but frankly she’d long since exhausted her supply of clothes she was willing to sacrifice to his claws

“Glorious,” Victor murmured, watching Darcy wriggle swiftly out of her clothes, tossing them off the side of the bed before laying back and opening her arms to him.”You’re so lovely, my girl, how did I ever get so lucky as to find you?”

She returned a pert smile. “Can’t imagine, but if you don’t come here and fuck me right now, you might not get to _keep_ me.”

“Oh, like that, is it?” he chuckled, before setting a knee on the bed and crawling towards her, moving slowly, stalking her like the lethal predator he was. Darcy’s lips parted as she watched him, her pupils blowing wide with lust, breath coming fast with anticipation.

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Victor growled, and Darcy instinctively reached up behind her head, wrapped her hands around the smooth wrought-iron bars of the headboard behind her. Or, it _looked_ like wrought-iron. It was something a good deal stronger. After about the tenth bed she and Victor had broken Stark had built them a new one, that so far hadn’t done more than creak ominously even when Victor was at his most enthusiastic.

“That’s it,” Victor purred approvingly as Darcy braced herself. “Gonna give you the nice rough fucking you want, little girl.”

She let out a little whimper as he traced bared claws delicately up her soft inner thigh, circled a viciously sharp point around her clit. Shiny trails of slick trickled over his claws; he paused to lick them up, tasting still the faint traces of his own essence mingled with hers, and the vanilla and coconut soap she liked to use in the shower. He didn’t like strong artificial scents; Darcy had figured that out early in their relationship and taken the trouble to find natural products that didn’t bother his sensitive nose.

The taste was glorious as he licked it slowly from his claws and Victor closed his eyes in brief bliss before deciding that he needed more and settling down between Darcy’s legs, pressing his face into her bush.

Darcy groaned as Victor’s long, dextrous tongue swept a long stroke over her clit. Her fingers tightened to a white-knuckle grip as two long, thick fingers (claws now safely sheathed) suddenly drove hard inside her, before starting to pump in time with the strokes of his tongue over her clit.

Still extremely sensitive from their vigorous lovemaking the night before, it took scant seconds before Darcy’s toes curled and she screamed his name, back arching in a spine-shaking orgasm which Victor prolonged with deliberate teasing laps of his tongue over her clit, his long fingers rubbing circles over her G-spot.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Darcy panted, collapsing back to the bed. Victor lifted his head, grinning, fangs showing as he licked his lips clean.

“You taste so delicious,” he said gutturally, moving up over her. “Keep holding on there, little girl.”

She groaned as she felt the thick, blunt head of his cock pushing into her. Swollen tissues protested the intrusion in a pleasure/pain combination that made her bite her lip and see stars.

“Easy,” Victor whispered in her ear, slowing his movements. “Easy.”

“Hnnn,” was about all the reply she could make just then; he chuckled, himself sounding a little short of breath, pressed his face into her neck and busied himself sucking in a slow bruise just below her ear. By the time the mark was sufficiently dark enough to please him, Darcy had adjusted, was making tiny sounds in her throat, hips rocking as she tried to pull him deeper, make him _move_.

“More?” Victor growled. He didn’t much care for the way he sounded during sex; unable to control the more animal noises his throat made. Darcy, however, always claimed that she loved it, that she could feel his snarls and growls reverberating through her body. She moaned as he asked the question, nodded frantically.

“Oh please. Victor, _please_.”

“Tell me if it’s too much.” Animal instincts or not, there was always a part of him aware that Darcy was all too human, all too fragile in comparison to his preternatural strength. Victor Creed wasn’t a gentle man, he never had been and never would be, but with Darcy his every protective instinct came to the fore. Even to the point of protecting her from himself.

“Now!” she yelled, pulled at him with her heels digging hard into the backs of his thighs. He could feel her bracing, her arms tensing to grip the metal bars harder. “Fuck me, Victor, do it now, harder, oh God, YES!!!”

Her screams of pleasure echoed off the walls as Victor obeyed, giving her exactly what she wanted, rough deep thrusts that shook her whole body with the impact every time his groin smacked back into hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _Question for Tasertooth fans: I know there are a lot of you out there and I’m sure it’s a bit of a hassle to have to go looking for the various prompt fics and specific chapters when you want to re-read. Would you like me to create a new fic for the pairing incorporating everything written so far? There wouldn’t be any new material in it and there might be several different ‘verses but at least it would all be in one place and any new prompts could be cross-posted there too… please let me know what you think!_


	119. Darcy/Mack for indubitably26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 13** \- _“They’re not good enough for you” Darcy/Mack for indubitably26_
> 
> _Edited to change the pronoun because otherwise the wording felt off :)_

“Talk me through it again,” Darcy asked as Mack finished showing her how the new widget he and Fitz had built worked. “And let _me_ try it out this time. You’re doing everything too fast.”

Mack grinned, handing the device over. His phone chirped at that moment, and he pointed a warning finger at her. “Don’t touch any buttons while I just check this.”

“I won’t,” Darcy promised, but she did try on the glove, frowning slightly as she realised it was way too big for her. Sized to fit Mack’s huge hand, of course. Maybe Fitz had done one for himself and she could try that one out.

“Oh,” Mack said very quietly, and she looked up to see his face droop into obvious lines of disappointment as he looked at his phone.

“What’s the matter?” Darcy asked instinctively. That expression on Mack’s face, he looked like a kicked puppy. Well, a six-foot-five, built as all fuck puppy, but she still had the urge to cuddle him better.

“Nothin’,” he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“It’s not nothing, you look like you just found out all your savings were wiped out by a Nigerian phishing scam.”

That made Mack crack a tiny smile. “Nothin’ that drastic. Sally just bailed on our date tonight, that’s all.”

Darcy blinked. “I’m sorry, what? A girl bailed on a date with _you_? She must have some pressing reason…”

Mack’s huge shoulders lifted in a rueful shrug. “Just said she didn’t feel like goin’ out.”

“With you. This girl turned down a date _with you_ because she didn’t feel like going out.”

“Yeah?”

“Is she _mad_? I mean, you’re you!” Darcy gestured with her hands, trying and failing to adequately express what she meant. Mack gave her an utterly bemused look. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Not exactly,” Mack shrugged again. “We’ve been out a couple times. I was, I guess I was kinda hoping that she would be.”

He was looking more like a kicked puppy than ever.

“She’s not good enough for you,” Darcy said very definitively. “If she doesn’t appreciate you for the clever, kind-hearted, gorgeous tool-wielding hunk of man that you are, she doesn’t deserve you.”

Mack stared at her in astonishment before finally saying in incredulous tones “ _Tool-wielding?_ ”

Darcy blushed. “The sight of you wielding a wrench might be something that’s in my spank bank,” she confessed. _Mack getting his self-esteem restored was more important than her embarrassing herself in front of him_ , she reasoned to herself.

“ _Wielding a wrench?_ ”

“Yeah, wearing that white vest with grease stains on it and your toolbelt and those tight cargo pants that show off your ass.” Her eyes glazed over. “Mmm.”

Mack blinked several times, staring down at Darcy. “Are you… for real?”

“What?” she started slightly. “What, that I get off thinking about you? Yeah. Sometimes.” The pink blush staining her cheeks darkened. “Sorry?”

“I’m not _complainin’_! I’m just a bit stunned, that’s all! I never thought that you looked at me twice.”

“Oh, I’ve looked at you a _whole_ lot more than twice.” Darcy gave him an impish grin.

“Well, then,” Mack said a little shyly, “I have a reservation for eight at Augello’s, if you like Italian food?”

“You’re asking _me_ out?” It was Darcy’s turn to look startled.

“Well, yeah. I mean,” Mack ducked his head sheepishly, “I’d’a asked long ago if I’d had any idea you were interested, but I thought you were waaaay outta my league.”

“Me? No way!” she stepped towards him, reached out to put her hand on his arm, forgetting that she was still wearing the oversized glove.

The _zap_ of electricity sent Mack to the floor shaking and spasming. Darcy shrieked with horror, yanking the glove off and throwing it across the room before going to her knees beside Mack.

“Mack! Oh god, I’ve killed him! And before we could even go on a date!”


	120. Johnny/Darcy for katiedid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Mid-September** - _“Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great...wait. I said that wrong._ ” _Johnny/Darcy for katiedid_
> 
> _I don’t know exactly when Katie’s birthday is, but I do know it’s sometime in mid-September, and I really wanted to write a birthday ficlet for her. @phoenix-173 promised to make sure that Katie sees it, so here it is, along with best wishes from all your friends in Darcyland for a wonderful birthday wherever you are, darling!_

“Look out, here comes trouble,” Jane said out of the side of her mouth.

“Loki again?” Darcy looked around. “Oh hell, no, even worse,” as she saw Johnny Storm approaching, a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“He’s going to try to flirt with you again.” Jane actually sat down and crossed her arms, grinning. Clearly preparing to watch the fireworks.

“He’s like a walking encyclopedia of terrible pickup lines, I can’t imagine that any of them have _ever_ worked,” Darcy muttered under her breath, making Jane giggle.

“That’s not what I’ve heard. Rumour says he’s very successful.”

“Willing to bet Flame On started all those rumours himself. Probably got a wiener the size of a pencil.” Darcy crooked her little finger, Jane fell off her chair laughing, and Johnny, thrown by both Jane’s laughter and Darcy’s gesture, bungled the carefully thought-out line he was hoping would finally be the one to convince Darcy he was worth taking a chance on.

“Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great...wait. I said that wrong.”

Jane laughed even harder, rolling on the floor clutching her stomach. Darcy poked at her with her foot, mouth twitching as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle her own laughter. A flustered Johnny Storm was actually a lot cuter than a smooth, confident one, she unwillingly admitted to herself as he stuttered briefly, his cheeks flushing. She gave him a wary look.

“You’re not going to accidentally overheat again, are you? Last time you did that in Jane’s lab three really sensitive machines blew up.”

“No!... wait, really? Oh. Wow, I’m really sorry. I’ll pay for that.” He jammed his hands in his pockets, ducked his head like an errant schoolboy. Darcy melted a little bit more.

“It’s OK. I told Stark it was the fault of one of his stupid experiments anyway and he paid for it.”

“Sue’s pulled that one on Reed a few times,” Johnny admitted. “Thanks for covering for me.”

Jane was still giggling on the floor, fist stuffed in her mouth, tears leaking from her eyes. She pulled her hand out of her mouth long enough to say “Why don’t you take Darcy out to dinner instead?”

Darcy glared at Jane. Johnny looked from one woman to the other before saying;

“I would, but she keeps saying no, Dr. Foster.”

“Take pity on the poor man, Darce. He just embarrassed himself for your sake, and he definitely owes you dinner after you covered for him.”

 _This is a conspiracy,_ Darcy mouthed at Jane. With a sigh, she looked at Johnny, who was giving her a hopeful-puppy look from those damnable big blue eyes of his.

“Fine. Pick me up tonight, seven-thirty. And it had better be a damn nice restaurant.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Johnny nodded eagerly, without a trace of mockery.

“Your pants are on fire,” Jane, still on the floor, pointed out.

“What?” he glanced down to find small flames licking through the fabric from where his hands were still shoved in his pockets. “Shit!” He whipped his hands out of his pockets.

A nearby machine went _pop_ and there was a fizzling sound.

“Out!” Darcy pointed at the door, and Johnny fled.

“Seven-thirty!” he yelled over his shoulder at her.

“Don’t you dare be late!” she shouted back.


	121. Skye/Bobby (Iceman) for greennonmonster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Mid-September** - _“You wouldn’t dare!" Skye/Bobby (Iceman) for greennonmonster_
> 
>  
> 
> _Fits into the Elsaverse (Elsaverse[part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6936911), [part 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/7113476))_

“You know,” Skye said thoughtfully as the two of them sat together, feeding each other bites of the wedding cake samples and laughing, “it would be absolutely hilarious if you _did_ get up and sing _Let It Go_ at the wedding.”

“You’ve had too much sugar.”

“But it _would_!”

“No.”

She gave him a pathetic, pleading look. Bobby folded his arms and gave her a cynical stare in return. “Forget it. I love you beyond reason, but that is one step too far. I am never singing that song _ever_.”

She pouted, but she could already tell she wasn’t going to get her way. “Well, maybe _I_ should get up and sing it then.”

“No.”

She smirked at him.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Even as he said it, Bobby realised he was making a mistake, that Skye never could resist a challenge.

“No? What would you do to me if I did?”

“I’d spank your ass black and blue!”

Skye leaned her chin on her hand and deliberately took his cake fork, sucked icing off slowly before smirking at him again. “Promise?”

Bobby groaned, watching helplessly as her little pink tongue swept over the fork tines. “Skye,” he said huskily, forgetting briefly that he was supposed to be convincing her that she wasn’t going to inflict That Song on him at their wedding. She chuckled softly, dropped the fork on the table and slid out of her chair and into his lap, winding her arms around his neck.

“ _The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen_ ,” she sang softly into his ear, holding on tighter as he tried to pull his head back, kiss her to silence. “ _A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I’m the… King._ ”

“Oh god please stop.”

She carried on singing, through her laughter, at least until he deliberately shoved his hands up inside her shirt and froze them against her skin, at which point she screamed with outrage.

“That’s not how I meant you should let it go!”

“Then you shouldn’t be encouraging me to build castles of ice.” He grinned as she finally pulled back to look at him. “You started that, honey. Don’t be pissed at me for finishing it. No singing that at the wedding.” Recognizing the mischievous glint in her eye, he hastily added “Or any other song from _Frozen_ , _Frosty The Snowman,_ or whatever other ice, snow or winter-themed song might pop into your devious little mind.”

“You are no fun.”

Bobby chuckled, kissing the pout off her lips. “That’s not what you said last night.”


	122. Daisy/Matt Murdock for youreprettyfreakingdope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 19** \- _"Are you jealous?" Daisy/Matt Murdock for youreprettyfreakingdope_

“So,” Daisy said as Matt sat down opposite her in their favourite little hole-in-the-wall deli, “who is she?”

“She who?” Matt said blankly, folding his cane and tucking it into his coat.

“The gorgeous woman you were talking to outside the court. I saw you on the TV. You looked pretty friendly.”

“Oh, Karen?” Matt smiled. “She used to work for me, before she went into journalism. She’s a good friend.”

“She looked more than that,” Daisy said, knowing she was being spiteful but unable to help herself. The blonde was utterly gorgeous, had kissed Matt’s cheek lingeringly and tucked her arm into his, walking him away from the TV cameras while they talked quietly.

“Well, she does know about my other identity,” Matt admitted.

“A _journalist_ knows who… the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is?” Daisy retained enough presence of mind to lower her voice, to hiss the question at him.

Matt shrugged. “I told you. She used to work for me, when Foggy and I were Nelson and Murdock. She’s not going to tell anyone who I am, if that’s what you’re worried about. I saved her life a time or two.”

“Saved it or endangered it?” Daisy asked cynically.

“That was a low blow,” Matt said angrily, and then he suddenly registered the undertone he’d been hearing in her voice all along, hadn’t quite analysed in his mind. “Wait a minute. Are you _jealous_?”

“No!” she said, too quickly, but he could hear her pulse jump.

“Daisy, I can _hear_ when you’re lying.”

She stilled at that, then groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “ _Fuck_ ,” she muttered into them quietly, but very vehemently.

Incredulous, Matt shook his head slowly before reaching out cautiously, feeling over her fingers, taking her hand into his and pulling on it gently. “Daisy. Karen’s a friend, I promise, nothing more. I’m right where I want to be right now, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with than you.”

She looked up at him cautiously, saw only sincerity in his face. Wished she could read his blank, sightless brown eyes for clues to his thoughts. “Really?”

“Really.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “Karen’s lovely, but I’d rather be with someone else. Someone who shakes my world.”

Daisy laughed despite herself. “You did _not_ just go there.”

Matt chuckled in response, lifting her hand and pressing a light kiss on her fingertips. “I tremble in fear of your wrath,” he said lightly.

“Matt!”

“Oh no, I’m quaking in my shoes!”

“ARGH!”


	123. Skitz for littlelamb92

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 20** - _“We have to tell them” Skitz for littlelamb92_

“We have to tell them,” Daisy whispered in Fitz’s ear.

“Why?” Fitz hissed back, his expression utterly horrified.

“Because otherwise we’re going to have to stay here until they’ve finished doing whatever the hell it is they are doing, and considering the noises that are starting to escalate, I really really don’t want to do that.”

Fitz made a face. “We could just stick our fingers in our ears?”

Daisy gave him a withering look in return.

“Okay, so how do we do this? Do we say something? Personally I’m all for trying to sneak out without them noticing. We can be pretty quiet and they sound busy…”

The Look got even more withering.

“We’re talking about May. She has the ears of a bat.”

Fitz winced. “True… do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Nothing…”

Fitz was right, it had all gone quiet. Daisy allowed herself the brief luxury of thinking the others had left when suddenly the door was yanked open.

“Why are you two hiding in the pantry cupboard?” May asked.

“... and why isn’t Fitz wearing a shirt?” Coulson added on.

“Why is your hair all messed up, May?” Daisy fired back rapidly. “And is that lipstick on your shirt collar, DC?”

They both jerked back, May reaching up to pat at her hair and Coulson grabbing at his collar. Fitz and Daisy took the opportunity to run past them, Fitz grabbing his shirt up off the kitchen counter where Daisy had discarded it just before they heard the others come in and had hastily holed up in the pantry cupboard.

“Lucky escape,” Fitz panted to Daisy as they fled the scene.

“I’m guessing it’s a temporary reprieve, but let’s take what we can get!”


	124. Steve/Daisy for llxtigerlillyxll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 20 -** _"You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?” Steve/Daisy for llxtigerlillyxll_

Daisy looked up from her breakfast cereal as Steve banged his bowl down on the table and dropped into his chair.

“Good morning,” she said.

Steve just grunted in response, digging into his bowl of Wheaties and shoving a large spoonful into his mouth.

“Who bit your ass?” Daisy asked curiously. Steve was rarely rude like this, certainly not to her.

“Language,” he muttered around his cereal. She gave him a glare and he dropped his gaze, shovelled more cereal into his mouth.

“I repeat my question,” she said coolly, “what’s the problem, Steve?”

He swallowed. “I stopped by to speak to you yesterday evening; you weren’t in your room.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to text me or call me to ask me where I was? As it happens, I spent most of the evening in Wanda’s room; we were having a girly night in painting each other’s toenails and gossiping.”

Steve dropped his spoon into the bowl with surprise; milk splashed on his shirt, but he didn’t even notice. “You… were? I thought you might be out again with that Drew guy you went on a date with last week.”

“Oh God, no, I wouldn’t go out with him again!”

He blinked at her. “Why?”

“It was a shitty date as it happens; _Dane_ spent the entire evening talking about himself.” She gave him a stern stare to let him know that she knew very well he’d got the name wrong on purpose.

“Really?” Steve looked oddly pleased by that information.

“You’ve been pouting ever since I _went_ on that date! What’s up, Steve?” Not understanding his attitude at all, Daisy shoved her own breakfast aside and frowned at him. “What was the problem with Dane?”

“There wasn’t a problem with _him_ , just with you going out with him,” Steve muttered, barely audible.

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You’re too good a dame for someone like that!” Steve snapped, finally. “You’re an Avenger, you’re smart and talented and absolutely amazingly beautiful and… and…” he ran down and fell silent, because Daisy was staring at him in complete amazement.

“You were _jealous_ ,” she said, suddenly enlightened.

He opened his mouth to snap an instinctive denial, froze up as it hit him like a ton of bricks that he’d be lying. “Urghh, gah,” he said unintelligibly instead.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you have a _crush_ on me,” Daisy said, a grin spreading across her face as he started blushing furiously.

“Nnnn _argh_ maybe?” he tried, aware that he was utterly beet red now.

She smirked before taking pity on him, sliding out of the seat and coming around the table, seating herself sideways on his lap and putting her arms around his neck.

“I just wish you’d said something sooner,” she murmured to his shell-shocked expression before leaning in and pressing her lips to his.


	125. Darcy/Bruce for astartelydianna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 21** \- _“You’re really sexy when you’re angry” Darcy/Bruce for astartelydianna_

It seemed to take a long time for all the crashing and screaming and explosions to die down. Darcy had very sensibly taken refuge under the Chief Bad Guy’s desk during the whole episode and had absolutely no intentions of coming out until it was safe.

Hearing Bruce’s familiar voice calling her name, though, she scrambled out and ran in the direction it was coming from, throwing herself at him in relief as she saw him come walking along the hallway. He was shirtless, wearing only his special stretchy Hulk-transformation pants, but Darcy didn’t care in the slightest, flinging herself against him and pressing her cheek happily against his hair-roughened chest.

“Um,” Bruce said in some startlement, “you okay, Darce?”

“Oh, man, you have no idea how happy I was to see you come rampaging across the car park. I think the idiot in charge actually wet his pants before abandoning ship.”

“You mean Hulk…”

“I mean you.” Still hugging him, she looked up at him. “Pretty sure it wasn’t Hulk who was told I’d been kidnapped and where to find me?”

“Well… no.”

“So you lost your temper and came to get me, right?”

“Well… yes.” Bruce was looking quite adorably confuzzled. Darcy wanted to ruffle his hair even more than she usually did, which was quite a lot.

“You’re really sexy when you’re angry,” she said contemplatively, “all that raging and smashing of things and roaring NO HURT MY DARCY.”

“I what?” He was a full-body blusher, Darcy discovered with delight as he blushed all the way down to his chest. “I mean, Hulk called you what?”

“MY DARCY. It was really quite a turn-on.” She reached up to frame his face in her hands. “I think I’d like it even better said by Bruce, though,” she whispered before standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.


	126. Darcy/Hunter for phoenix-173

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 23** \- _“I don’t know what you’re supposed to be dressed as, but you’ve failed” Darcy/Hunter for phoenix-173_

“Give Stark his due, he really knows how to throw a party,” Darcy said, looking around.

“I think it’s the liberal application of alcohol as a lubricant that makes it all work so well,” Natasha said dryly beside her.

“Oh, like you haven’t been mixing those lethal cocktails and contributing to the general merriment,” Darcy snorted. Natasha gave her a feline smirk. The effect was only accentuated by the black catsuit, kitty ears and long black furry tail she was wearing. Which Darcy had noticed nobody was foolhardy enough to touch, probably because the catsuit was also adorned with most of Natasha’s weapons arsenal. When Stark had asked her exactly what she’d come as, Natasha had answered simply;

“Murder Kitty.”

Such was Natasha’s confidence that she could pull off literally anything, Darcy mused. Darcy herself hadn’t actually known about the party until she and Jane arrived home that afternoon, so she’d had to make do with whatever she could find in her closet. Fortunately, the magnificent gown she’d been given last time she and Jane visited Asgard was right there at the front. A pair of fake elf ears and a sparkly stone on a necklace chain hung in her hair to dangle on her forehead later, and Darcy thought she made a pretty good Arwen Evenstar. Lots of people had complimented her, anyway.

(Nobody had asked why she just happened to have a pair of fake elf ears lying around, for which Darcy was grateful. Her days as a Lord of the Rings cosplayer at fan conventions were definitely in the past).

A man stepped up beside Darcy at the bar then and said cheerfully to Natasha “Whatever you’re mixin’, luv.”

It was a strong English accent, making Darcy turn to look at him in surprise. She did a double-take when she saw his outfit.

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to be dressed as, but you’ve failed,” tripped off her tongue before she could help herself.

“Have not,” the man turned to look at her.

“Have so. You’re blue. If you’re meant to be a Frost Giant, they’re all a fuckton taller than you.”

“Well, I’m not, so nyah.” He grinned at her, showing nice white teeth. He was probably pretty good looking under all the blue, actually, Darcy assessed.

“Well who else is blue?” She’d had enough booze to be argumentative, Darcy realised dimly.

“Kree. An’ I’ve met Kree, thanks very much. This is what the dude looked like when I punched him in the guts, too. Well. In the glimpse I got before he threw me into a wall, anyway.”

“Okay. Now you’re interesting,” Darcy turned to fully face him. “You’ve met a _Kree_? And _survived_ the experience?”

“I could say that you’ve met a _Frost Giant_ and survived the experience?” he grinned back at her, offered a blue hand. “What say we get drunk and trade alien encounter experiences?”

Natasha set two glasses down on the bar and a pitcher of margarita in between them. “Enjoy,” she said and slid quietly away as Darcy said;

“Darcy Lewis, science wrangler extraordinaire.”

“Lance Hunter. Badass.”


	127. Sam/Darcy/Bucky for stateofconstantconfusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 23** \- _"You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend material" Sam/Darcy/Bucky for stateofconstantconfusion_
> 
> _Takes place post-CW. Bucky doesn’t go into cryo because NOPE._

“Sam!” Darcy threw herself into his arms as he stepped off the plane and he hugged her tight, burying his face in her hair.

“You’re alright, baby?”

“I’m not the one who just got broken out of the world’s highest-security jail!” Her hands skimmed over him, finding the spot on his ribs where one of Ross’s harsher guards had put the boot in. Sam winced and Darcy’s face darkened.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, gently taking her face between his hands and kissing the crease between her eyebrows. “Fine now that I’m with you, anyway.”

She sighed and relaxed against him, hugging him back carefully. “It’s so good to have you back,” she muttered into his chest.

Sam closed his eyes, breathed in the soft scent of her hair. “So good to be back.” He lifted his face after a moment, looked around. “Where the fuck is this, anyway? It looks real pretty.”

Darcy snickered, stepping back and lacing her fingers with his. “Madagascar.”

Sam blinked. “As in, the movie?”

“As in the island nation off the east coast of Africa, you dope,” Darcy nudged him, laughing.

“... I knew that. Why Madagascar?”

“Well, it was one of the nations that didn’t sign the Accords. And it’s not all that far from Wakanda.”

“... last I heard, T’Challa was on Stark’s side. Aristocat sure helped drag my ass off to the Raft.”

“That got complicated when it turned out Bucky was totally right about the other Winter Soldiers and T’Challa stopped Zemo from committing suicide after he turned Steve and Tony against each other again. This is actually his holiday house.”

Sam sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he entered the sumptuous-looking building Darcy had led him to. “I have the feeling that I lost way too much time shut up in that cell and I’m not gonna catch up again.”

“Of course you are. I’ll catch you up. Hey, Bucky,” Darcy said as she led Sam into a generous-sized lounge.

“Darcy,” Bucky said, looking up from a book in his hands. “Hey, birdbrain.” It was almost the ghost of a smile. Sam found himself returning it, thinking that Bucky looked a hell of a lot healthier than the last time Sam saw him, even though he appeared to have misplaced most of his cyber-arm somewhere. Bucky’s pale skin was tanned, his eyes sharp and bright, his hair smoothed back and damp. He was only wearing a pair of tight swim shorts, drawing attention to his fit, powerful physique.

 _Don’t stare_ , Sam told himself sternly. He’d had rather too much time locked up in the Raft to dwell on his attraction to Barnes. Sam was with Darcy, Darcy who was standing there beside him, holding his hand… and also staring at Bucky with her lips parted and her pupils dilated.

_Oh. Right. Well. That’s… a thing._

_Well, they do say that the obvious solution to love triangles is a threesome…_

It was an actually painful wrench for Sam to yank his mind back out of the gutter where that train of thought led him, as he heard Steve’s voice behind him, and Darcy started, face flushing as she turned around with him.

“Darcy,” Sam said a little hesitantly as they entered a bedroom together and Darcy closed the door behind them, “correct me if I’m wrong, but… you and Barnes. Is something going on there?”

“What? No!” She said it a bit too quickly. “I told him that I was with you.”

“Right. Okay.” They stared at each other for a minute before Darcy sighed and sat down on the bed.

“He’s hot, alright? I know you noticed as well.” Sam had been open with her from the beginning about his bisexuality. Darcy hadn’t been insecure about it because Sam had made it very clear that he had no intention of playing around on her, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t notice his appreciation for the aesthetic attractiveness of either sex. And apparently they shared the same taste in dark, broody murder-assassin types.

Sam sighed and sat down beside her. “Is he interested in you?”

“He looks, but that’s as far as it goes. I get the feeling that he doesn’t think of himself as being a desirable partner, you know?” Darcy shook her head. “Which is so wrong.”

“I know, right?” Sam nudged her gently. “Maybe we could work on tempting him. Together.”

Darcy’s grin bloomed bright and wicked. “I like the way you think, birdman.”

“Now, let’s stop talking about Mr Hot and Broody and have a _proper_ reunion.” Sam grinned back at her.

“Your ideas are getting better all the time!” Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and they toppled over onto the bed together.

 

Bucky winced as the sounds of enthusiastic lovemaking drifted to his sensitive ears. He debated going outside, before remembering that Darcy’s room faced onto the garden area and she liked to have her windows open. And his room was even closer to Darcy’s than the living are. Sighing, he tried to close his ears and concentrate on his book, not to think about what two of the most attractive people he’d ever met were doing to each other a scant few feet away.

After just a couple of minutes, he lost the battle to ignore them and headed outside, diving into the pool. He was a crappy swimmer with only one arm, while the Wakandans worked on building him a new one, but hey, at least underwater he couldn’t hear Darcy moaning Sam’s name in that throaty voice that had Bucky fighting a fierce urge to go in there and ask to join in.

The worst part was, he had the sneaking suspicion that they might let him.

He stayed in the pool nearly an hour, splashing and making lots of noise, talking with Clint and Scott who both came by to swim and soak up the sun’s warmth. Wanda came out too, though she didn’t seem to want to swim, just sat on a chair in the shade. Steve turned up to keep her company and the two of them sat talking quietly; after a while Bucky saw her lean her head against Steve’s shoulder. She’d been the most affected by the time in the Raft, he thought, seeing Scott and Clint both watching with concern as well.

Steve reckoned Wanda could fix the triggers in Bucky’s head, and he was willing to try because he didn’t see any alternative, but he was pretty sure that right now she was nowhere near ready to even consider it.

He didn’t see Darcy and Sam again until dinner. Both of them had that well-satisfied look about them that spoke of an afternoon of thoroughly excellent sex; though they’d both showered, Bucky’s sensitive nose picked up the scents on them too. He tried to stay as far away as possible, but was stymied when he sat down at the dinner table and they promptly took the seats on either side of him.

“Oh, uh, I’ll move so you can sit together,” Bucky said promptly, but Darcy’s hand landed on his.

“Don’t,” she said quietly, and that single word had him settling back down into his seat again, hating himself for taking any excuse to stay near her and Sam.

Sam and Darcy kept the conversation up throughout the meal, chatting lightly, determinedly including Bucky, slowly drawing him out of his shell. He was laughing at a terrible pun of Sam’s when it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember ever enjoying himself like this. Excusing himself, he headed outside and stood in the dark garden, breathing fast and looking at the stars.

“Runnin’ away?” a deep voice said, and Bucky sighed.

“No, birdbrain.”

The words rang hollow, though, and Sam stepped up beside him and gave him a long, steady look.

“I don’t wanna talk about it?” Bucky tried again, sighed as Darcy stepped up on his other side.

“Bucky,” she said firmly, “not talking about things is what led to the Avengers’ civil war in the first place.”

“Look, you two have clearly got a good thing going,” Bucky dived in headfirst, cutting off whatever Sam was just opening his mouth to say. “I’d only fuck that up. I would.”

Darcy grabbed a handful of his shirt and shook it in her small fist. Bucky blinked and looked down at her in surprise as she tugged at him. “Do you know what material this is?”

“Uh… no? Probably some sort of cotton blend…”

“It’s boyfriend material, that’s what it is. Both Sam and I think so, don’t we, darling?”

“Yup,” Sam agreed. “We’re not interested in some sort of love triangle where one person is left out and the others are pining.”

“So this…” Bucky described a small horizontal circle in the air with his finger that somehow encompassed all three of them. “All of us.”

Darcy nodded, a smile on her face. “You can say no, Bucky. It’s fine.”

“I… I think I might like to try it,” he said hesitantly. “Though can we take it slow, at least until Wanda’s had a chance to excavate the things out of my head that shouldn’t be in it? I don’t wanna put either of you at risk.”

“As slow as you like.” Darcy finally let go of his shirt, smoothing the crushed material. “Whatever you need, Bucky.”

He smiled as she and Sam both moved closer, Sam’s strong arm sliding around his waist. “I knew, y’know,” Bucky told Sam.

“Knew what?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“When we were fightin’ that weird spider-kid in the airport. I knew then we were gonna sleep together. Didn’t know this beautiful dame would be involved too, mind you.”

That made Darcy giggle happily as she hugged onto Bucky as well, Sam’s other arm going around her.

“I’m glad _you_ knew,” Sam said dryly. “I was pretty sure that I was just gonna get my ass killed trying to save yours!”

“Couldn’t have that,” Bucky said with a suddenly roguish grin, “not when it’s such a pretty ass!”


	128. Darcy/Rollins for pinkpandorafrog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 22** \- _“I’ve been thinking about you all day” Darcy/Rollins for pinkpandorafrog - you didn’t tell me that it was your birthday so I picked a prompt for you! Sorry it’s a bit late!_
> 
> _Takes place the day after[this scene](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/15473167)._

Darcy woke with a groan as the little tiny men in her head announced themselves with ice picks to the backs of her eyeballs. “Fuck off,” she moaned unhappily.

“Told you that tequila was a bad idea.”

“Ugh.” She grabbed the pillow and put it over her head. “Who let you in?”

Jane pulled the pillow off mercilessly. “Agent Rollins. What did you say to him last night? He’s being surprisingly nice this morning.”

“I don’t know,” Darcy said, and then in a horrible instant of clarity, the tequila fog cleared and she remembered every word of the conversation from the night before. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Jane was just quick enough to get the wastebin under her nose before Darcy lost what little she had in her stomach.

“So,” Jane retreated to a safe distance, “Agent Rollins?”

“I plead the Fifth,” Darcy mumbled.

“Well since you’re still wearing the clothes you travelled in, I’m assuming that nothing _too_ serious happened,” Jane raised an interrogative eyebrow.

“ _Nothing_ happened.” Darcy groaned and shoved herself out of bed. “Please go away so that I can make myself back into a human again.”

Jane sighed, puffed out her cheeks. “All right. I’ll be in the lab.”

It took Darcy a good forty-five minutes to down some Advil, shower, and clean up the mess in her room. Finally, though, she braced herself to leave her room and head down to the lab. A path which led her right past Agent Rollins’ office.

Which was empty.

Obscurely disappointed, Darcy lifted her chin and walked onwards. He’d let Jane into her room so he was around somewhere. No doubt he’d be looming over her soon enough and she’d have to deal with the embarrassment of having propositioned him with her filthy fantasies the night before. He hadn’t seemed completely put off by the idea, at least, she consoled herself. Not considering the way he’d kissed her. It had only been the one kiss, though she’d tried to tempt him to more outside her door and she was pretty sure he’d been about to when one of his men called for him.

The memory of his mouth hot and hard over hers had her jumping out of her skin every time one of the SHIELD agents entered the lab all day, but Rollins was never one of them. They all seemed stressed, one of the female agents had red eyes from crying. Darcy pressed her gently until the agent admitted that Loki had killed Agent Coulson on the Helicarrier right before the battle of New York.

Jane went very white around the lips at that and stopped stridently demanding to be taken to Thor immediately. It wasn’t all that long later when the tear-faced agent came back in with a phone telling Jane that Director Fury wanted to speak to her.

Jane took the call in private, and Darcy took the opportunity to casually inquire where Agent Rollins was. The female agent looked at her strangely.

“He’s busy, miss.” The flat tone made it clear that was all the answer Darcy was going to get.

Well, she supposed that an alien invasion of New York probably did have SHIELD buzzing like a hornet’s nest. Especially considering the wreckage they were seeing plastered all over their TV screens. Rollins had probably been recalled to help deal with it, now that the danger from Loki and the Chitauri was over.

Assuming that it _was_ over. Darcy sighed, pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples and tried not to think about it too hard.

A bottle of Advil was set down on the desk in front of her. She blinked at it for a moment before her eyes tracked up to the man towering over her.

“You look like you could use a couple of those right about now,” Jack Rollins rumbled.

She meant to say _thank you,_ but once again in his presence her mouth ran away with her. “Where have you _been_ , I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she said plaintively.

“ _Really_.” He perched a hip on her desk, cracked the top of the Advil bottle open and shook out two into his palm, offering them to her.

Darcy sighed again and accepted the tablets, grabbing the open can of soda on her desk to wash them down with. “Really. I’ve been thinking what an idiot I made of myself last night.” She turned the can around in her hands, staring at it intently, not wanting to meet Jack’s eyes. “Propositioning you like that.”

“I didn’t think you made an idiot of yourself.” He capped the bottle, put it back into a pocket on the thigh of his cargo pants. Which only drew Darcy’s eyes to his thighs, those deliciously thick muscular thighs, the black fabric stretched tight over them as he leaned on her desk.

“Unnggghhh,” she said insensibly.

“So I stopped by to see if you might consider makin’ me a similar offer when you’re _not_ out of your head on tequila.”

Her eyes tracked slowly up to meet his. His expression was calm, his green eyes steady as he looked at her.

“What?” Darcy finally said.

“You made me some offers last night. You were drunk, so I said no, even though I was pretty fucking tempted. You clearly remember at least some of it, since you just apologized to me. So I was just wonderin’ if you felt inclined to make any similar offers now, while sober. If the answer’s no, I’ll shut my trap and not bother you again.”

Darcy blinked. Jack looked back at her steadily, his arms folded, the way his biceps swelled beneath the tight sleeves of his T-shirt making her feel rather faint.

“Uh, yes,” she said eventually, realising that she needed to speak.

“Yes what?”

“I think that I should make you some more offers.” She nodded, still a bit incredulous.

“Good.” Unfolding his arms, he straightened up. “I’ll be in my office when you’re finished.” Casting her an unexpectedly smouldering look, he stalked out. There was no way that Darcy was going to miss the back view, so she hastily spun around on her chair and leaned over to watch.

“You’re a disgrace,” Jane said dryly, spotting Darcy gazing open-mouthed at Jack Rollins’ ass.

“I’m a disgrace with a date, though,” she grinned up at her friend, and Jane, despite her own worries, couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“... says the woman who convinced me to get on a flight bound for an alien invasion of New York!”


	129. Bucky Barnes/Kitty Pryde (Kitty doing the biting) for chibi-crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 25** \- _“What a nice little sound, I think I’ll bite there again.” Bucky Barnes/Kitty Pryde for chibi-crazy_

The only problem with her soulmate, Kitty reflected, was that he was too tall for her just to kiss whenever she wanted. Although she wouldn’t wish him any shorter. Maybe the problem was herself and her own tiny size. She sighed, considering her tall, muscular boyfriend as he stood at the kitchen counter stirring his coffee. He wasn’t very awake yet, scratching absently at his stomach as he stood there wearing only a low-slung pair of tracksuit pants that hung low on his lean hips.

 _Very_ low, actually. She could see the upper curves of his ass; that spectacular, tightly muscled ass that always made her want to sink her teeth into it.

Suddenly tempted, and wondering if she could actually sneak up on the Winter Soldier, Kitty crept up behind the oblivious Bucky on silent cat feet, leaned over and nipped sharply at the tightly muscled upper curve of his right buttock.

Bucky jumped straight up in the air, knocking over his coffee cup and spilling it all over the counter, and made a sound suspiciously like a pig squealing as he spun to face Kitty, who couldn’t hold in her laughter.

“What a nice little sound,” she giggled helplessly. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

“You wicked little minx,” hand clapped to the imprint of her sharp teeth in his ass, Bucky shook his head. “You made me spill my coffee.”

“Well, if you _will_ stand around in the kitchen with your pants falling down,” Kitty gave him an irrepressible grin before taking a slightly nervous step backwards as Bucky started towards her.

“I am gonna get you back for that, little cat,” he said menacingly.

She turned and sprinted for the wall, fully intending to phase through it to escape. _Should have just dropped through the floor,_ she realised as Bucky’s arm curled around her waist and he lifted her off her feet, kicking and squealing. Somehow, it never occurred to her that she could just phase through his arm to get away, as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her back to their bedroom.


	130. Darcy/Victor for ureeber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **September 25 -** _"You’re very sexy when you’re angry" Darcy/Victor for ureeber_

“And another thing!” Darcy turned back to Victor, waving her finger at him in annoyance. “Attempting to peel Tony out of the Iron Man suit like a cat getting sardines out of a tin just because he made an inappropriate remark about my boobs is not okay!”

Victor looked down at the finger she was waggling a good foot below his nose. “What would you suggest I do instead?” he rumbled mildly. “I will not stand for anyone disrespecting you like that.”

She wanted to melt, but made herself stand firm. “You let me deal with it! I’ve been dealing with Stark’s smart mouth for years now!”

“And you have not caused him to stop with his disrespect, so it appears that your methods are not working.”

Darcy, already red-faced with annoyance, went even redder, went up on tiptoe and poked Victor in the chest with one tiny finger. “You. Let. Me. Deal. With. It. Trust me, I’d have gotten him back. It’s like a game with Stark. He makes some rude remark, I prank him. I didn’t take offence, Victor. I just started plotting my revenge, and now you’ve ruined it trashing his suit; I _owe_ him!”

“Ah,” Victor suddenly understood. Darcy did not like owing debts. “I see.”

“Do you really?” Darcy put her hands on her hips, scowled up at him.

“You’re very sexy when you’re angry,” he blurted.

Startled, Darcy blinked, before a slow smile spread across her face. “Says the man with almost as many anger management issues as the Hulk.”

“Perhaps that’s why I find _your_ anger so sexy.” His voice dropped to a soft, sexy purr, a sound that always made shivers tremble up Darcy’s spine and her nipples peak to attention.

“Remind me what I was angry about again?” she asked a little breathlessly as his long arms curled around her, drawing her close.

“No,” Victor said thickly right before he lifted her clear off her feet to kiss her senseless.


	131. Darcy/Bucky for wandamaximoffk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 3** \- _“You know I dream of you" Darcy/Bucky for wandamaximoffk_

Bucky’s sensitive hearing picked up an unfamiliar sound as he walked past the common room door. He paused, tuning in; realized it was someone crying and hesitated before entering. Wanda had been pretty upset when they got back from the mission…

… oh. It wasn’t Wanda. He backtracked towards the door but Darcy had already looked up and spotted him. She grabbed for the tissue box on the table, turned her red, blotchy face away from him.

“Just go,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

Except he couldn’t go now, because he was pretty sure that he was the _cause_ of her distress. “Don’t cry, Darce,” he muttered, moving over towards her, hand hovering over her hair as she buried her face in a handful of tissues. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” she muttered into the soggy tissues.

“It’s not safe for you to be with me. _I’m_ not safe.”

She looked up at him, eyes red, her expression vulnerable. “That sounds like the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and it just doesn’t wash, Bucky. I’ve had a target on my back ever since Thor’s boots hit New Mexico dirt. Wanda says she’s cleaned all the triggers out of your head, so frankly I think next to you is one of the safest places I could possibly be.”

He opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. Darcy stared at him from those huge, watery blue eyes, and he felt his heart crack.

“Say something,” she begged.

“You know I dream of you,” he stumbled out with finally. “Every night, Darcy, I have ever since we met, and sometimes the dreams are so sweet; but then in others I see the most terrible things happening to you, Hydra’s scientists making you suffer in ways worse than you could ever imagine, and it tears me to _pieces_.”

Darcy stared at him in silence for a long moment before saying “Is _this_ why you pushed me away? Because of _dreams_ of things that are never going to happen, because I _know_ you’d never let them?”

He had no answer for her, but she saw the truth in his expression and scrambled to her feet, flinging her tissues aside, beating her tiny fists on his chest. “How dare you! How _dare_ you make a decision like that without even talking to me about it - I thought you didn’t _care…_ ”

“Never!” Bucky grabbed her fists in his, stilling her. “Darcy, I’m so in love with you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop, but…”

“Shut up!” she shouted at him. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

He shut up, and she fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him over onto the couch on top of her.

Bucky had to let go of her wrists, catch himself on his arms to keep from crushing her as they fell, and Darcy took the opportunity to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.

One taste of her lips and he was lost, as always. Her fingers slid into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. Bucky moaned into her soft mouth as Darcy’s legs hooked up around his waist, pulling him firmly against her. He was rock hard already, hardened further as he felt the warm heat of her crotch cradling him, through the thin panties that were all she was wearing beneath her skirt, ridden up to her thighs.

“Want you,” he mumbled into the soft warmth of her throat, licking and sucking at the tender flesh. “Please, Darcy…”

“Yes,” was all she said, tugging at his shirt until he reared up off her and ripped it away from his body, metal fingers shredding the fabric in an instant. Darcy’s shirt fared no better, though she twisted an arm under herself to unhook her bra before it suffered a similar fate. Another few seconds of wriggling and twisting about and they were both naked, Bucky’s fingers sliding between Darcy’s thighs, finding her already soaking wet for him.

“Now,” she begged, nails digging into his flesh arm, squeaking on the metal one as she tried to pull him into her, her heels pressing into the backs of his muscled thighs. “Oh Bucky, please…”

The little whimper in her voice destroyed him. He growled her name deep in his chest as his hips shifted, swollen head of his cock nestling into the welcoming, soaked cavern of her sex. Darcy made a low, breathy sound as Bucky pushed deep, her juices slicking his way.

“So good,” he whispered, kissing her swollen lips, “you feel so good around me, Darcy.”

“You’re not breaking up with me,” she told him, holding on tight, “I won’t let you.”

“Love you,” he said it for the first time, and her eyes filled with tears again, but tears of joy this time. “Love you, love you, love you so much…” his hips rocked in time with his words, and Darcy cried out with the pleasure of it, holding on to him tightly. Swearing silently to herself that next time he tried to push her away, she wasn’t going. She was going to hold on, and keep holding on, for ever.


	132. Remy/Wanda for hiraethhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 4** \- _"I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.” Remy/Wanda for hiraethhouse_

She could tell he was watching her from across the room as the others celebrated, drank and talked about their victory. She knew what he wanted, what he would do soon, soon… what she wanted, too, and hated herself for it.

It felt cheap, what they shared. Three times now when the fight was done he’d slipped into her room in the dark of night and she’d welcomed him into her arms, taken him into her body, but in the daylight they had to pretend there was nothing between them. That she didn’t know how his hands felt on her skin, how his heated kisses made her want more and more until she wanted to scream to the world that Remy LeBeau was _hers_ , and hers alone.

If she had, though, her other team-mates would have been literally queuing up to beat the living daylights out of him, to keep him far away from her, because he was more than twice her age and every single one of them - even Natasha - had been at pains to warn her to keep her distance.

No man could hide their mind from Wanda Maximoff, though, and after their first fight together when she’d stood over the body of her vanquished enemy, the red glow still surrounding her hands and in her eyes, she’d been beyond shocked to find no fear in the man who first dared to come close. No fear at all. Only admiration, and a hefty dose of lust.

“You look distracted, _p’tite_ ,” a warm voice murmured in her ear, and she looked up to see that Remy had come over to stand beside her, leaning casually on the bar as he helped himself to another beer. “Or is it merely that you have been looking into Remy’s mind again and losing yourself in what you find there?”

She didn’t have to look to know what she’d find in his mind right now, not with that smirk on his lips and the glow in his eyes. Affecting a sigh, she looked away. “Honestly, right now? I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.”

Remy’s laugh was low and rich, a sinful sound that made her shudder. She tried in vain to suppress it.

“ _Vraiment, p’tite?_ I do not think so.” He moved a little closer, bending his head so that his warm breath flowed over her cheek. “Or do you tell me that you will lock your door against my entry tonight? Remy is a thief, locks do not keep him out, yet,” he lifted a long finger, touched the tip of her nose very lightly as she looked up at him with vulnerable eyes, “only say the word, and I will not seek to enter.”

She couldn’t make a sound come out, not a single one, and after a long moment of silence, Remy chuckled. _“C’est bien. Jusqu’à plus tard, p’tite.”_

Wanda closed her eyes in self-disgust as Remy walked away, opened them to the sound of a glass chinking as it was set down on the bar beside her. Natasha met her eyes with a knowing smirk, tilted her head towards the filled martini glass she’d just set down at Wanda’s elbow.

“To enjoyable mistakes,” the Russian said wryly.

Wanda picked up the glass and downed the contents in a single swallow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ _Vraiment, p’tite?” -_ Really, little one?
> 
> “ _C’est bien. Jusqu’à plus tard, p’tite_.” - That’s good. Until later, little one.


	133. Wanda/Vision, for adiarshira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 4** \- _"They're not good enough for you". Said by an overprotective (not jealous) Pietro about Wanda's feelings for Vision, for adiarshira_
> 
> _I changed the pronoun to suit the setting. Although I’m not sure if we’ve ever heard Vision referred to by a pronoun? If anyone knows if Vision has canonically preferred pronouns, please let me know!_

“ _O, ne!_ ”

“Take a chill pill, Speedy,” Tony glanced around to see what had the youngster in such a lather. “Vis isn’t going to hurt your baby sister. Wait, isn’t she older than you?”

“Twelve minutes,” Pietro mumbled distractedly, running his fingers through his dishevilled silver hair. “But she is my sister; she is mine to look out for, and he… he…”

“Isn’t human?” Tony supplied helpfully, as they watched Vision bending over Wanda, tenderly stroking her hair as she smiled up at him. “Look, don’t worry about it. I don’t even know if he’s sexually functional.”

“I don’t _want_ to know!” Pietro groaned, horrified at the mere thought.

“...but I do know that he has her best interests at heart.”

“He doesn’t _have_ a heart!”

“... point.” Tony sighed as Pietro lost the battle to stay uninvolved, headed across the room to cut Wanda and Vision apart. “I really should leave this matchmaking shit to Pep. She’s way better at it than me.”

Vision only looked incurious as Pietro led Wanda away, but Wanda frowned up at her twin, shaking his hand off her arm. “What? I was talking to Vis!”

“He’s not good enough for you.” Pietro cut to the point, knowing she would just pick it out of his mind if he talked around what was really bothering him. Deliberately, he opened his mind wide to her, trying to express his concern, his love for her, his _need_ to see her safe and happy and loved. His fear that Vision’s very inhumanity precluded his loving Wanda as she deserved.

All prepared to be angry with him, Wanda softened as her twin practically threw his emotions at her. With a sigh, she reached up to hug him, smiling against his cheek as he hugged her back.

“I do understand why you think that,” she said gently, “but the fact that Vision, alone among men, has a mind that is closed to my scrutiny is more important than you can imagine. All men reveal themselves, in time,” she quoted the words she’d once spoken to Ultron, making Pietro shudder a little with remembered horror, “but knowing every nuance of someone’s mind in the first five minutes in their presence, does not a good basis for a relationship make, brother.”

He sighed, hugging her tighter. “I understand. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I understand your concerns too, dear one.” She reached up, brushed a stray curl back from his brow. “Better than you think. Now go find some pretty girl to flirt with - I’m sure Stark has invited dozens - and stop worrying about me. I couldn’t be safer.”

Pietro sighed, kissed her forehead and let go. “All right. Just. Tell Vision that I’m quicker than he is and he might find himself missing some body parts even _he_ can’t do without if he hurts you.”

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head fondly at him. “Foolish brother. Do not forget...”

“... you’re the older twin, I know, I know. Twelve minutes does not make you much wiser, though.”

She watched him walk away. Glancing around the room, she saw Dr Foster’s pretty assistant watching Pietro with a wistful expression on her face. Darcy was a sweet girl… Wanda sent the whisper of a suggestion, so faint he’d never realise it didn’t come from inside his own mind, to Pietro, watched him divert course to Darcy’s side. Smiling slightly, she turned away and headed off to look for Vision. She had her own plans for the evening, that really didn’t include her brother’s interference.


	134. Fitz/Nat for jen4850

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 6** \- _Fitz/Nat "I like your gun." for jen4850 (JenniferEsther on Ao3)_

“Well, hello,” a face appeared upside-down over the table Fitz had very sensibly taken refuge under when the shooting started. A mop of deep red curls tumbled around bright green eyes. “You must be Fitz.”

He stared dumbly. The upside-down face disappeared, replaced by a pair of legs clad in very, _very_ tight black leather as their owner vaulted smoothly over the table, before kneeling down in front of him and smiling reassuringly.

“I’m Natasha. Coulson sent me to find you.”

 _I know who you are, you’re the Black Widow!_ he wanted to shriek, but his throat had seized up entirely. He stared at her wide-eyed and silent.

Natasha cocked her head at him, nodded to herself as though he’d confirmed something for her, and settled comfortably down on the floor, crossing her legs. “On the other hand I don’t mind sitting down for a bit. It’s been a busy day.”

That was the understatement of the year, Fitz thought, watching as she drew a gun smoothly from a thigh sheath and ejected the magazine. Making a moue of distaste as she discovered only one bullet left in the clip, Natasha unzipped a pocket and started reloading.

The clinking sound of the bullets snapping into the clip, the steady, repetitive motion of her hands, made Fitz feel calm again. She took out another clip, reloaded that one too. He found himself studying the bullets, the gun itself, with the eyes of the weapons designer he’d become. They were quite unusual-looking, and he was pretty sure that the gun itself was engineered to fit her hand, quite possibly _only_ her hand.

“I like your gun,” he blurted out.

Natasha looked up to meet his eyes, smiled. “Want a closer look?” She reversed the weapon and offered him the butt.

The grip was still warm from her hand; her hands were smaller than his, and he was certain then that the gun had been specially made for her. It felt curiously intimate, holding her gun, sitting there under the table with her knees almost touching his. He looked back up at her green eyes, saw the little smile that played around her lips before handing the gun back.

“I could make you a better one.”

Natasha’s smile widened. “That sounds like fun.” Putting the gun away, she held her hand out to Fitz. “Shall we?”

Her fingers were so slender, felt almost fragile as they wrapped around his own, but he felt the strength in them as she stood and helped him to his feet. And she held onto his hand as they walked through the base, back to rejoin the others. To find his team.


	135. platonic Jemma/Clint for rivanwarrioress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 7** \- _“You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know.” platonic Jemma/Clint for rivanwarrioress_

He wasn’t exactly sure when he’d somehow become Official Father Substitute to all the new Avengers and associated hangers-on and staff.  Some of them were his own age, or nearly! But even Scott had only half-jokingly called him ‘dad’ one day.

Truth be told, he didn’t mind all that much. He had decidedly paternal feeling towards most of them anyway, especially the Maximoff kids, Parker, Lewis and now this clever little scientist lass Coulson had sent them, who apparently didn’t have the sense to know when exhaustion just had her beat. He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at the peaceful face asleep on the cold, uncomfortable metal lab bench.

“I can see I’m going to have to add you to Lewis’ list of scientists to wrangle into getting enough sleep,” he said quite loudly, hoping she’d wake up. She didn’t so much as twitch.

With a sigh, Clint bent down and picked Jemma up. She nestled against his chest, making cute little murmuring sounds, making him sigh fondly. “You’re so cute when you’re tired, you know,” he told the sleeping scientist. “And you’re way too light. You’re going on the Must Eat More Regularly list, too.”

She never woke up, not when he carried her all the way upstairs and into her room, laying her down on her bed and taking her shoes off before tucking her in gently. “Sleep tight, Jemma,” he said quietly, smoothing her hair before turning out the light and closing the door as quietly as he could.


	136. Steve/Jemma/Bucky for andysteve1311

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 7** - _"Well you said you'd make it up to me. I'd like that to start now." Steve/Jemma/Bucky for andysteve1311_

“How mad do you think she’s gonna be?” Bucky said quietly to Steve as they boarded the quinjet together.

Steve grimaced. “Pretty mad.”

“I suppose it could be worse?”

“Yeah, it could be _her_ wedding we stood her up at, not just her brother’s.”

Bucky winced. “She does understand that saving the world sometimes has to take priority, at least.”

“Which is probably the only reason why we _might_ still have a girlfriend tomorrow. Tony, you’re right to drop us off in England, yeah?” Steve called forward to the cockpit.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony called back, flicking buttons. “It’s not THAT late. You might even still make it in time to grab a dance with your girl.”

“Dressed like this?” Steve looked down at his battle suit. “Think we’d better lurk outside until it’s all over.”

“You’re kidding?” Tony looked around at him. “Trust me, Cap, Captain America and the Winter Soldier walking in and sweeping her off her feet for a dance while apologising for being late will completely mend any misery she might be feeling over having to attend the wedding as a singleton.”

“D’you know, he might be right,” Bucky said as Tony concentrated on the controls once more. “Gotta be worth a try?”

“We better ask first. Let’s see if we actually do get there on time,” Steve decided to be cautious.

They did; Tony dropped them off at a discreet distance and they could still hear the music playing in the ballroom of the picturesque country house hotel. A little nervous, Steve pulled out his phone and texted Jemma.

_We’re here but we’re still battle-suited. Do you want us to make an entrance?_

It seemed to take an agonisingly long time for her to reply; she’d been anxiously texting all day, checking in with them, making sure they were okay. They both knew very well that she couldn’t have been enjoying the wedding as much as they wished she could, had promised fervently to make it up to her.

Steve’s phone pinged and they both bent anxiously over the screen.

_Well, you said you'd make, it up to me. I'd like that to start now._

“... I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Bucky said after a moment.

Steve sighed, pulled his helmet back on. “No guns,” he told Bucky, “don’t wanna terrify everyone.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes at Steve. “I left most of them on the jet.”

“The important term there being _most_ ,” was the dry response as they made their way inside, past a couple of guests outside on the terrace having a cigarette, who gaped at them.

“Don’t smoke, it’s bad for you,” Steve said absently in passing.

Jemma had deliberately placed herself near the stage where the band was playing, so that they would have to cross the entire room to get to her, Bucky saw as they entered the ballroom, grinned to himself. She really did want them to make a spectacle of this.

The band’s singer actually spotted them first, stopped mid-word. The music fell silent almost instantly, a hush spreading across the room as people turned to look, gaped with awe at the sight of two real-life superheroes standing in their midst.

Steve and Bucky stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder, and the crowd parted before them like the Red Sea as they walked towards Jemma, standing alone now, wearing a stunning teal-blue dress that made both of them dry-mouthed with appreciation. Her hair was piled up elegantly atop her head, a few stray curls escaping to lie along her slender neck.

“Oh my God, she looks fucking _edible_ ,” Bucky said under his breath, knowing Steve’s incredibly sensitive hearing would pick it up.

“Mm hm,” was the only response Steve made, but Bucky could almost feel Steve’s tension rising, knew it was lust-driven.

Reaching Jemma, they both smiled at her. The room was quiet enough that you could have heard a pin dropping.

“Sorry we’re late, darling,” Steve said clearly, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Got a bit caught up saving the world, y’know how it is,” Bucky added.

“But we wouldn’t have missed the chance to dance with you for anything.” Steve turned, looked up at the band singer. “Play on, if you please,” he requested. “We wanna dance with our girl.”

Jemma chuckled as the music started, along with the stunned whispering around them, stepped forward between them and into a mutual embrace.

“That’ll do nicely for an apology gesture,” she said with a broad smile, and Steve and Bucky bumped heads in an attempt to be the first one to kiss her.


	137. WinterShieldShock for sporkette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 9** - _"Uh, sweetheart, what's this doing here?" WinterShieldShock for sporkette_

“You’re back!” Delighted, Darcy jumped up off the couch and ran into Bucky and Steve’s welcoming arms. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow!”

“Had to get back to you, doll,” Bucky said with a low chuckle, as Steve managed to get in for the first kiss. “Took it in turns to drive all night.”

“So good to see you,” was about all Darcy had time for when Steve let her up for air, before Bucky’s mouth replaced his. “Mmf mff,” she gave up trying to talk as Bucky lifted her off her feet without breaking the kiss, clung to his broad shoulders as he carried her into their bedroom.

Steve was already stripping his clothes off as he followed them, an anticipatory grin on his face. He and Bucky soon had Darcy stripped naked and needy between them, her soft warmth a balm to both of their weary hearts as she gladly welcomed them both into her body.

Afterwards, Bucky left Darcy sweating and sated, nestled securely into Steve’s arms, while he visited the bathroom. Washing his hands, he frowned at the white plastic stick lying on the edge of the sink.

“Uh, sweetheart,” walking back into the bedroom, he held up the white stick. “What’s this doing here?”

“What?” Darcy twisted her head to look. Sat suddenly bolt upright, almost headbutting Steve in the face. “That? Nothing! It’s nothing!”

“Why are you shouting, then?” Steve sat up too, staring in befuddlement as Darcy scrambled out of bed and tried to snatch the stick from Bucky. He held it up in the air to keep it out of her reach. “What is that thing, Buck?”

“It’s a pregnancy test.”

Steve fell off the bed in shock.

“Give it to me,” Darcy pleaded. “Just… forget you saw it.”

“I’ll do that if you look me in the eyes and tell me it ain’t yours.”

Bucky’s blue eyes bored into hers. Darcy dropped her gaze. “It’s mine,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, but she was sharing her bedroom with two supersoldiers. They heard just as well as if she’d shouted it.

“An’ two blue lines means it’s positive, right, doll?”

Screwing her eyes shut in defeat, she collapsed back to lie on the bed they’d so recently rumpled.

“Yeah.”

“When exactly were you planning on telling us about this?” Steve asked, his tone wounded, and she sighed and opened her eyes to look at him as he sat back down on the bed beside her. His eyes widened then. “Wait, you weren’t thinking of…”

“Stop being so Catholic, Stevie, it’s not up to you,” Bucky said sharply. “There’s a lot of factors in play here that you haven’t even considered yet.”

Steve froze, mouth hanging open. Darcy looked at Bucky curiously. “You sound like you _have_ considered some of those factors.”

“Things happen,” Bucky said laconically. “I like to have all the options considered.”

“What options?” Steve asked plaintively. “It’s either yours or mine, Buck…”

“And in either case, it’s the child of a supersoldier, and that puts one hell of a target right here.” Bucky’s metal hand hovered protectively over Darcy’s stomach. “A target Darcy shouldn’t be forced to wear, if she doesn’t want to.”

Steve stared at him, then at his hand, his expression pure shock. Darcy sighed.

“I wasn’t considering _not_ going through with it, Steve, but Bucky’s right. This is pretty unexpected, to say the least. I’ve had a depo shot and we’ve been careful, but apparently supersoldier swimmers are very persistent.”

“How far are you along?” Bucky asked quietly.

“About six weeks?” Darcy looked up at him through her lashes. “It only occurred to me yesterday that I was late. I took that test this morning, went to see Helen Cho today. She took a blood test to confirm.”

They were all quiet for a few moments, letting the idea sink in, and then Steve reached out to place his hand over Bucky’s, press them both lightly down on Darcy’s stomach. “We’re gonna be parents,” he almost whispered it, his expression pure wonder. Darcy couldn’t help but smile.

“Somehow I don’t think anything about this pregnancy is going to be normal, considering who you two are, but of one thing I’m sure. This baby is gonna be the most loved, treasured baby there ever was.” Her hand landed atop Steve and Bucky’s, and all three lay cuddled close together, quietly making plans for a future that had never occurred to any of them even a day ago.


	138. Darcy/Frank for jim-is-spock-thyla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 10** \- _"They're not good enough for you" Darcy/Frank for jim-is-spock-thyla_
> 
> Set in the [Excellent Taste In Dogs]() AU; I was asked for a follow-up to [this ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/16380307), where Frank and Darcy go to the wedding together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This came at a really good time because an amazing picture of Jon Bernthal and his dog crossed my Tumblr dash just yesterday. Imagine Frank turning up dressed like this to take Darcy to the wedding… *swoon*_
> 
> [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/frank%20and%20dog%202_zpsrgdx6wqf.png.html)

Darcy was still recovering from the full impact of seeing Frank dressed up in a suit and tie, his beard neatly clipped and for once not a bruise or contusion to be seen, when they pulled up at the wedding venue. The black convertible Mercedes, pretty new she was sure, and a freshly bathed Bunny sitting in the back seat (wearing a safety harness, of course) with his tongue lolling happily completed the picture of Everything Darcy Lewis Ever Wanted. She kept looking across at Frank, the picture of a wealthy, successful businessman; even his sunglasses were designer.

“So spill,” she said as they pulled into the parking lot of the swanky hotel where her sister’s wedding was being held, “where did you get the car?”

Frank smirked. “There’s quite a lot of people who owe me favors. Your buddy Stark is among them.”

“That probably explains the suit as well.” She couldn’t help but lick her lips as he got out of the car and came around to open her door.

“Excuse me, I bought this myself,” he looked mock-offended as he offered his hand. She accepted, taking it to get her balance on the high heels she was wearing. All her sisters were five-nine or taller, and five foot two Darcy had no intention of looking like a midget next to them, even if she did break her neck walking in six-inch heels.

Frank looked amused as he saw her eyes on a level with his chin instead of his collarbone, but he said nothing, just reached over to release Bunny, who bounced eagerly out of the car and came to nuzzle at Darcy’s hand.

“Good boy,” Darcy said, petting his scarred head. “Good boy.”

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Darcy-girl,” Frank said quietly, seeing that her fingers were shaking. “I’m right here with you.”

He began to see fairly quickly why Darcy’s family got her upset so easily. The first issue arose when the card on the chair beside Darcy’s was labelled “Darcy’s Guest”.

“Mom, I told you who I was bringing a month ago!” Darcy hissed at her mother. Mrs Lewis gave her a saccharine smile.

“Well, dear, you never know, do you? I thought he might not have been able to make it.” She side-eyed Frank, who just picked the card up and put it in his pocket, after being introduced. “Thought you might have had to find someone else to stand in at the last minute and having someone else’s name on the seat might be embarrassing.”

“You could have checked with me, you know,” Darcy pointed out with a sigh, giving up. Even wearing the most fabulous dress she’d ever seen - courtesy of a wad of cash Frank had handed her one day, that she had no intention of inquiring about its origins - she still felt frumpy next to her mother and sisters. Several of whom were eyeing Frank as though he were some particularly tasty delicacy on the menu.

A warm hand curled around hers as she took her seat, and a cold nose brushed her ankle lightly; Bunny sitting under Frank’s chair like the good dog he was. She looked up at Frank and made the effort to smile.

“Don’t worry, Darcy,” he leaned over and whispered softly into her ear. “Think about something else. Think about the things I did to you last night with my tongue. That should make you feel better.”

She flushed bright red beneath her makeup, lips parting on a gasp. Frank chuckled quietly in her ear. “Or you can think about the things I’m gonna do to you later. I was thinking how pretty you’d look spread out on the hood of Stark’s fancy car…”

“Please stop talking now!” she squeaked. He sat back, laughing quietly, as the music started.

The name card wasn’t the only little microaggression Frank witnessed, either. He couldn’t comprehend it, why all these beautiful, apparently successful, wealthy women should be jealous of Darcy. He thought she was gorgeous, of course, but he could also see that her sisters would certainly be considered more conventionally beautiful.

“Why are they like this?” he asked as they danced together at the reception, Bunny fast asleep under the table. “Why are they jealous of you?”

Darcy shrugged. She looked tired around the eyes, Frank thought, weary of dealing with her family’s crap. “It’s not jealousy. I’ve never been good enough for them.”

“Hah. It’s the other way around, angel, trust me. _They’re_ not good enough for _you_.” He’d heard three of the sisters gossiping that afternoon, whispering spitefully about him and Darcy. Wondering how Darcy got ‘a man like that’. One of them had speculated that Darcy had paid for him to attend as her date. Wondered what he charged per hour.

The high-pitched giggles had cut off abruptly as Frank moved. He’d been just outside the terrace doors where they’d been gathered, waiting while Buddy relieved himself in some nearby shrubbery. Walking back in, he gave them his best Punisher Death Stare and felt marginally happier as they all paled and stumbled quickly away.

Darcy smiled and leaned closer, reaching up to put her arms around his neck. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s nothing but the truth. None of them can hold a candle to you.” He could see her mother not too far away, watching them. Thinking that he’d give her something to watch, Frank bent his head to capture Darcy’s lips in a slow, heated kiss that left any onlookers in no doubt whatsoever that he was more than happy to be there.


	139. fluffy Stucky for silverraven22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 10** - _fluffy Stucky family fic where they adopt Wanda and Pietro and everything is lovely for silverraven22_
> 
> _No prompt was given, so I chose “I know a really good cure for that.”_

**October 10** - _fluffy Stucky family fic where they adopt Wanda and Pietro and everything is lovely for silverraven22_

_No prompt was given, so I chose “I know a really good cure for that.”_

“They’re fighting again,” Steve sighed, casting his eyes upwards as the sound of shouting drifted through the house.

“Teenage hormones,” Bucky looked up from the pan he was stirring, grinned at Steve. “They’ll get over it.”

“Get in here, you two!” Steve called up the stairs, and about a second later Pietro was standing in front of him, arms folded, a cheeky smirk on his face.

“I will when you get out of the doorway, old man.”

“Cheeky,” Steve gave him an affectionate grin, though, moved aside so Pietro could enter the kitchen, where the youngster promptly zoomed over to Bucky and took a taste off the wooden spoon Bucky was just lifting to his lips.

“Brat!” Bucky promptly whacked his nose with the spoon, leaving a thick smear of tomato sauce. Pietro attempted to lick it off, laughing, his eyes crossing comically. Steve shook his head fondly, looking back out into the hall as Wanda came down the stairs more slowly, a sulky pout on her lips.

“Come here,” Steve put his arms around her for a comforting hug, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “What’s up, baby girl?”

“Just… stuff,” she muttered against his shoulder. “Girl stuff.”

“I’m not a girl but you know you can talk to me about that, right?” he said very quietly, for her ears only. “Or we can call your Aunty Nat, if you want to?”

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “I already talked to her. Piet was just being an ass because he overheard some of the conversation and got grossed out.”

“Well, that will teach him to eavesdrop on your private conversations then, won’t it?” Steve said, loudly enough for Pietro to hear. The speedster rolled his eyes and made a face.

“Please, I have suffered enough. I feel queasy just thinking about it.”

“I know a really good cure for that,” Bucky said, opening the oven door and pulling out a metal tray loaded with thickly buttered garlic bread. The scent wafted through the kitchen, leading to all the other three pointing their noses in the air and inhaling deeply. “Nothing like home-made Italian food to lift everyone’s spirits, hmm?”

Nobody disputed that. In fact, there was a positive scramble to lay plates, cutlery and water glasses out on the table as Bucky dished up the pasta and the garlic bread.

By the time they’d finished the meal Wanda and Pietro were the best of friends again, even happily set to clearing the table and doing the washing up together while Steve and Bucky sat back and watched, enjoying the sight of their found family at peace once again.


	140. Darcy/Bucky for takari25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 10** \- _"I'm too sober for this shit" Darcy/Bucky for takari25_

“Giant, flesh-eating worms,” Darcy said in weary disbelief as she stared out of the windows of the Avengers’ Tower labs. “Seriously. Somebody has been reading way too much _Dune_.”

“Reading what?” Bucky, standing next to her, asked with interest. Darcy sighed, rubbed her forehead with her fingers.

“I’m _way_ too sober for this shit.”

Things started exploding down below as the Avengers joined the fray, and Darcy spotted from the corner of her eye Bucky moving, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Oh, no you don’t.” She grabbed for his hand. “They can handle this without you perfectly fine. You’re not going anywhere until the Scientists Three have fixed your arm up.”

He sighed, and to her surprise his fingers wrapped around hers gently. “You’re right. It just - goes against the grain, kinda, to stand here and watch the battle. I’m used to being in the middle of it.”

“You really want to be down there fighting against giant flesh-eating worms.” She said it flatly, disbelievingly. “Instead of staying here in a nice warm Tower with _no_ worms.”

“Well, when ya put it like that,” Bucky gave her a roguish grin. “There’s the added incentive of a pretty girl holdin’ my hand, too.”

Darcy’s cheeks turned a little pink at that. “Technically you’re holding _my_ hand,” she pointed out.

“You held mine first.”

“Are you trying to claim I’m making a move on you?” Darcy blinked at him.

“Are you?”

She hesitated, unsure of what to make of the way he was acting. “Would you want me to?”

His fingers tightened around hers. “I’ve been hangin’ around your labs for weeks hopin’ you might show me a flicker of encouragement, Darce. Not a thing until you grabbed my hand, just now. Have pity on a fella, willya?”

Darcy smiled. “So _that’s_ why I’ve been tripping over you every time I turned around. I thought you were just being untrusting because Jane and I were new to you.”

Bucky shook his head firmly. “That’s not it at all. I took one look when Stevie introduced ya and lost my head. Been trailin’ round after you like a stray dog ever since waitin’ for you to notice me.”

“I like strays,” Darcy said with a smile, moving in closer and turning her face up towards his. “Dogs and otherwise.”


	141. RumSkye for alilacskye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 12** - _“I’m not cheap, but I am on special this week.” RumSkye for alilacskye_

“Jesus H fucking Christ!” Brock threw himself flat as a hail of bullets greeted his kicking in the door of the supposedly-abandoned safehouse. “Backup!” he yelled into his comm, rolling hastily away from the door and squishing himself up against the wall. “Fucking backup fucking _now_!”

“You squeal like a girl, Rumlow,” Daisy drawled in his ear.

“Seem to recall it was you squealing last night,” he replied as a massive concussive force made his eardrums vibrate briefly. His comm popped and fizzled, instantly dead. The hail of bullets stopped too, though, so he was calling it a win.

“Having fun down there?” Daisy said dryly, standing above him.

“Time of my life. Thank God for Fitz’s better-than-Kevlar,” Brock had taken at least two hits, but his combat gear had protected him. He stood up, shaking his shoulders slightly. Flattened bullets fell from the folds of his jacket. “You blew up my comm, though.”

“Which will teach you to talk about our sex life on open comms,” Daisy sniped back. She reached out to touch the damaged threads in his jacket, though, concern on her face. “You’re okay?” she asked softly.

“I’m good.” He lifted his pistol, clicked off the safety. “Now let’s go clean out this snake’s nest and you can buy me dinner in recompense for arriving late to the party and nearly getting my ass killed.”

“That’s a pretty cheap price for forgiveness.” Daisy pulled her own gun as they headed for the door.

“Oh, angel. I’m never cheap.” Brock gave her that wicked, sardonic grin that never failed to make her stomach lurch. “But I _am_ on special this week. I’ll settle for dinner - as long as you wear that red dress again.”

“That dress is so damn tight I can barely walk!” she protested.

“That’s why I like it so much.” Casually, he kicked one of the men on the floor who was just starting to move in the head, before leaning down to cuff his hands behind him. “Makes your ass look even more fabulous than it usually does.”

Daisy had to laugh, as she leaned down to cuff another man’s hands. “You’re incorrigible.”

“The word you’re looking for is _insatiable_.” Brock caught her around the waist, pulled her close and kissed her hard. “Getting shot at tends to have a certain effect on me.”

“So I see,” Daisy took a quick glance around, saw that everyone was subdued and restrained, and melted into Brock’s embrace. “Alright. Dinner and the red dress it is!”

 

_(This is the red dress Rumlow is so keen on btw)_

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/red%20dress_zpsifytpyqq.jpg.html)


	142. DaisyBones for trust-me-i-dare-you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 12** - _“Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.” DaisyBones for trust-me-i-dare-you_

**October 12** - _“Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.” DaisyBones for trust-me-i-dare-you_

“So that’s the famous Agent Johnson,” Rumlow said thoughtfully as one of his STRIKE team nudged him and pointed her out. “She’s smaller than I expected. The way y’all talk about her, I expected her to be as tall as Mack.”

Agent Piper, sitting on the bar stool next to his, snickered. “She’s no taller than I am.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been a badass little bitch, and I’m not about to underestimate Agent Johnson either.” Rumlow grinned at Piper. She’d been the best damn junior STRIKE agent he’d ever seen; he wasn’t at all surprised that she’d risen quickly to be the team commander here at the Playground. Fury bringing in the Helicarrier and its huge complement of personnel for a while could have thrown the balance of power considerably - had Piper not immediately made it clear that she considered Rumlow to be her superior in STRIKE, no matter that their ranks were nominally equal.

Piper smirked and lifted her bourbon glass to tap against his. “Daisy’s alright, sir.”

Rumlow nodded, accepting her word as gospel. He sighed then as he saw one of his men making a bee-line for Daisy, a familiar, determined look on his face. “God damn it. Cornell’s gonna try to hit on her.”

“She can take care of herself, I wouldn’t worry about her,” Piper said, but she was talking to empty air. Rumlow was already gone. Watching his expression as he headed towards Daisy, an intriguing thought struck Piper. She grinned, lifted her glass to her lips, and sat back to watch the show.

Rumlow didn’t get to Daisy before Agent Cornell, mainly because Mack stepped into his path, grinning. “Rumlow! Haven’t seen you since STRIKE staged off the _Iliad_ that one time. How’re you doin’?”

“I’m good, Mack.” Rumlow shook Mack’s hand absently, half his attention fixed on the conversation while the other half tracked Daisy. She listened to Cornell’s clumsy pickup line with a small smile on her face before shaking her head. The idiot tried to press and Daisy’s eyes darkened.

“I said no,” she said, her tone cool and steady, and Cornell at least had the sense to beat a gracious retreat.

“She’s magnificent,” Rumlow couldn’t help himself from saying out loud. Mack glanced from him to Daisy before laughing quietly.

“Oddly enough, I could actually see you two together. You’re as reckless about your own neck as she is.”

“Nah, I’m not…” Rumlow started, but Mack gave him a sudden sharp push in the small of his back and the sheer power behind it pushed him off-balance, made him take a couple of quick steps towards Daisy as Mack retreated.

Daisy glanced up at the movement in her peripheral vision, found herself looking into the whisky-coloured eyes of - _oh_. Well, she had to say that he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, if not _the_ most handsome. She blinked, several times.

Thrown off balance, Rumlow said the only thing he could think of. “I’m sorry Cornell bothered you. He’s a clumsy idiot who has no idea to talk to a woman.”

“Oh,” a small smiled touched Daisy’s lips. “Well. It was a cheesy line, but not offensive.”

“His pickup line wasn’t as good as any of mine.” _What the hell made me say that?_ Rumlow thought, panicking. “I’m just saying.” He shrugged, feeling like a teenage boy again. _It was those eyes,_ he thought. She had the most amazing eyes. He was fully prepared for Daisy to give him that harsh, dismissive stare she’d given Cornell, and was astonished when she actually chuckled, her eyelashes sweeping down and up again, her head tilting in a decidedly flirtatious gesture.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”


	143. Darcy/Magneto for littleroma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 15** - _"You know I dream of you" Darcy/Magneto for littleroma_
> 
> _WARNING: feels ahead. Darcy is the reincarnation of Eric’s long-dead wife, who wasn’t named in Apocalypse as far as I can find out. I chose the name Darya._

“So let me get this straight,” Darcy said, staring up at Bishop, “you need to go back in time to find Magneto before he goes absolutely stone-cold bonkers, and for some reason you’re telling me that _I_ have to go with him?” She knew that Destiny couldn’t see her, but she looked at the blind woman anyway. “Forgive me for pointing this out, but I thought you and Magneto were bosom pals?”

“Erik has gone beyond sanity,” Irene’s voice was steady, but Darcy could hear the underlying sadness. “He has set in train events that will end the world as we know it, and there is no stopping it from this point forward. The only way to change the future is to alter the past.”

Darcy pressed her fingers to her temples. “Won’t that just make a _different_ present, though? No, you know what, I don’t want to know how time travel works. I just don’t. My head already hurts and you’ve only just told me it’s _possible_.”

Irene and Bishop just looked at each other silently, waiting for Darcy.

“Alright,” Darcy dropped her hands. “Why me?”

“Because it _has_ to be you,” Irene shrugged somewhat helplessly. “I don’t _know_ exactly why. It just has to be you or there _is_ no future.”

“No pressure, huh!” Darcy looked at Irene for a long moment before asking “Will I get to come back?”

“I don’t know. There _is_ no future until you go and change the past.”

“Oh, for… okay. Paradoxes. I get it.” Darcy sucked in a deep breath. “Okay.” She looked up, way up, to meet Bishop’s eyes. “When do we leave?”

“There’s no time like the present,” the huge man rumbled, cracking a smile. Darcy groaned.

“God damn it, I have to put up with bad humor too?”

“You know what to do,” Irene said to Bishop, who nodded soberly before wrapping a strong arm around Darcy’s shoulders.

“Ugh,” time-travel was stomach-churning, Darcy discovered. She ended up on her knees at Bishop’s feet, trying to keep down her heaves. “So,” she looked up at him finally. “ _When_ , exactly, are we?”

“Nineteen eighty.” He was scanning the area around them intently.

“Oh great. I wasn’t even born yet.” Staggering to her feet, Darcy peered around. “Okay, so _where_ are we?”

Bishop actually cracked a grin at that. “Most people ask that one first.”

“Most people didn’t just get thrown across time to save the world. What do I do next, huh? Did Destiny give you any clues or are we on our own here?”

“I know what I have to do,” Bishop said, “but I’m afraid you’re on your own.” He’d been taking a few subtle steps away from Darcy, shook his head at her now. “I’m sorry about this, Darcy.”

“About what?” Darcy blinked as the air seemed to shimmer behind him. He stepped backwards into the shimmer… and disappeared. “No! Bishop, no! You ASSHOLE!” She threw herself at the empty space where he’d just been standing, but stumbled right through the fading shimmer of air. “God fucking damn it, he didn’t even tell me where I am!” Straightening up, she turned in a circle, looking around. “Some shitty apartment.” She looked with a jaundiced eye at the ugly, cheap timber furniture, the carpet patterned with an eye-jarring orange and brown spiral.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me what you’re doing in my apartment before I kill you,” a deep voice said behind her, and she whirled around, mouth already opening to say she knew not what but it would probably be stupid.

The sight of the man before her drove every thought out of her head, because even though she knew for certain that she’d never laid eyes on him before, he’d stalked her dreams for years.

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Darcy said, stunned.

Erik had been about to use his powers to send the knives lying on the kitchen bench to turn the intruder into mincemeat. The face that turned to his, though, was undeniably familiar. He staggered back a step.

“ _Darya_?” he whispered incredulously. “This is not - you cannot be…”

“My name is Darcy, not Darya.” Walking towards him in a daze, she stared at him. “I dream of you. Every night, I have for years, but we’ve never met. Who _are_ you?”

“Erik.” Incredulous, he lifted his hands to her face, touched her cheeks very lightly. “You are Darya’s very image, but you do not sound like her.”

He had striking blue eyes, and he was very tall, Darcy noticed. Very handsome, too. She swallowed as the name he’d given her sunk in. “Erik Lensherr,” she whispered.

“Who sent you?” he asked then. “Nobody alive but me even knows what Darya looked like - though I suppose Charles could have taken her image from my mind, found you…”

Darcy shook her head. “Don’t know any Charles, and it doesn’t explain why I’ve been dreaming of you all my life anyway, does it?” she asked.

Erik’s fingers stroked her cheeks lightly. “That’s not Charles’ way, besides. Why are you here, Dary-Darcy?” he corrected himself.

“I’m here to save the world. Wanna help?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “With you in it - it might even be worth saving.”

“I’m _so_ glad you said that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Funnily enough, though I’d never been asked for Darcy/Magneto before, I then got another ask which will be going up in a couple of days, an immediate sequel to this one!_


	144. Sabretooth/Darcy for georgiagirlagain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 16** - _“I'll show you what real fucking is,” Sabretooth/Darcy for georgiagirlagain_

“I reckon you’re all talk, big guy,” Darcy teased, looking up at Victor. His eyebrows went up, and he leaned over, putting one huge hand down on the bar beside hers. One look at that hand had Darcy melting internally. _God, what she wanted Victor to do with those hands!_ But he never seemed to go past the point of amused tolerance for her flirting.

“You’ve seen me in action,” he rumbled.

“Not _that_ kind of action. You know,” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “The _other_ kind of action. I’d like to see that very much, actually.”

“You play with fire, little girl,” Victor said softly. Darcy rolled her eyes at him, leaned back against the bar and deliberately started playing with the top button of her blouse.

“I’m not a _little girl_. Though I wouldn’t be at all averse to sitting on your lap.” Plumping her lips to a pout, she blew him a kiss. “Burning the sheets up some, too.”

A soft growl rumbled in Victor’s chest; the hairs on the back of Darcy’s neck stood up.

“So hot,” she almost panted it. “Do you make noises like that in bed?”

The growl got louder; Victor’s eyes gleamed gold. “You really want to find out, little girl?”

She rose to her feet, gazing up over the clear sixteen inches of height difference between them, entirely unafraid. “Yes. I do.”

The world spun around her as he swept her off her feet and tossed her over his shoulder. Across the room, Jane put out her hands to stay Thor and Steve as they both started up with alarm. “It’s fine,” she said loudly. “Everything’s fine.”

Natasha chuckled as Victor carried Darcy past her, waggled her fingers at Darcy. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she called.

“ _Is_ there anything you wouldn’t do?” Darcy called back.

“Er… no. Never mind!” Pointing at Steve, Natasha said “And _you_ had better go for a nice long run. Really long. Your brain will probably melt because of the noise, otherwise.”

Victor ignored all the chatter, Steve’s indignant noises and Sam’s catcalls, just carrying Darcy off to his room. She was quite relaxed on his shoulder, petting his back lightly through his shirt. His fingers flexed, claws tearing very lightly at her clothes; the fabric shredded instantly against their brutal sharpness and she didn’t even object to that.

The rumbling growl in Victor’s chest had quieted, transmuted to what Darcy was pretty sure was a purr. She smothered a chuckle as he tossed her onto his bed and climbed on after her, bracing himself above her, smiling broadly to show his fangs.

“Last chance to back out.”

Darcy smiled, reaching up to touch his stubbled cheek. “Now I know for sure you’re not a bad guy any more. That’s definitely a good guy thing to say.”

Victor’s claws swiped; her blouse and bra fell away, making Darcy gasp, but he was so precise he hadn’t even brushed her skin.

“A good guy wouldn’t fuck you like I’m about to. I’m gonna show you what real fucking is, little girl.”

“Oh good,” Darcy wiggled happily as he lowered his head to taste her mouth. “About time too, frankly.”


	145. Steve/Bucky/Peter Quill for mariknickerbocker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 16** - _"I'm always looking for meaningful one night stands" Steve/Bucky/Peter Quill for mariknickerbocker (soulmates AU requested)_

“Who the fuck are those two?” Peter slurred, waving his drink in the general direction of the two men who’d caught his eye. “They’re pretty but they don’t look like they belong here. Not enough capes.”

Thor grinned, knocking back another gulp of wine himself. “They are Midgardians like yourself, Star-Lord. Two of the Avengers, Captain America and the Winter Soldier.”

Peter blinked several times. “The blond one does look a lot like those old reels of Steve Rogers,” he said after a minute.

“He _is_ Steve Rogers.”

“Steve Rogers died at the end of World War Two, Thor, every kid in America knows that!”

“Except that he did not.” Thor smiled a little smugly as Peter gaped. “And nor did his soulmate Sergeant Barnes perish in his tragic fall from the train.”

“No freakin’ way,” Peter breathed, turning back to stare at the two men, at the way they stood so close their shoulders were brushing. “Hot damn. I used to have _detailed_ sexual fantasies about those two in my teens.” He felt a sudden urge to do something he’d probably regret when he was sober. There was nothing remotely unusual about the impulse, so as usual, he acted on it. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he handed the empty cup to Thor and made a beeline for Steve and Bucky.

“Hello, who’s this character?” Steve said in an undertone to Bucky as they watched the apparently-human - or human enough to get drunk on Asgardian wine, anyway - man heading towards them in a line that was a lot more wavery than he probably thought it was.

“Dunno,” Bucky raked the tall redhead with a long glance. “He’s kinda hot, though. Like what that red leather coat does for his shoulders.”

Steve suppressed a snigger. “Behave.” He nudged Bucky.

Peter stopped right in front of the two men, blinked as he realised that he was actually a fraction taller than Captain America. Well. He hadn’t expected that. He smiled. “You two are really smokin’ hot,” he said in a rush of words, “and I’m really fuckin’ horny, so how about it? I’m always looking for meaningful one-night-stands.”

Steve’s jaw dropped, but Peter had expected that Captain America would be a bit more strait-laced than his partner. Barnes had been giving him a good stare on the way across the room, though, so it was Bucky at whom he looked, only for his head to whip back as Steve said;

“I think we might need a bit more than that. Like, the rest of your life.”

It was Peter’s jaw that dropped, this time. He gaped incredulously at Steve until Bucky chuckled and said;

“And I thought _I_ was the slutty one in this soul-division!”

“Well,” Peter managed to recover his voice, if not his composure, “with words like that, I always felt compelled to out-slut _everyone_ , y’know?” He had to wonder, despairingly, if they would think any less of him for it.

“It’s okay,” Steve’s hand landed on his, pulled him closer. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you to come and hit on us… what’s your name? I’m Steve and this is Bucky.”

“I know who you are! I’m Peter Quill. Star-Lord, but you won’t have heard of me…” since they were from Earth, they _definitely_ wouldn’t have heard of him.

“Actually, we have,” Steve disagreed. “Thor told us about you. Said you were the first Midgardian he’d ever met, even before he came to Earth.”

“Captain America’s heard of me. My life is complete,” Peter blurted in complete amazement.

“Nah,” Bucky said, grinning. “Not yet, anyway.” The filthy look he gave Peter indicated exactly what needed to happen for that to be the case. Well. _Some_ of the things. Some of them were only just beginning to occur to Peter’s drink-addled brain.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “you haven’t really lived until you’ve had Bucky’s cock in your mouth while I fuck your ass.”

Peter wasn’t sure he could get any more astonished. He gaped at Steve in complete, utter, wordless befuddlement. Who the hell would have thought _Captain America_ could talk filth like that?

“I think I could definitely be on board with that plan,” he managed to stutter out eventually.

“Good, because in about ten minutes you’re gonna be the filling in a Stucky sandwich,” Bucky said with a dirty laugh, linking his arm through Peter’s.

“Thank you, any god that’s listening,” Peter said fervently, casting his eyes upwards as his soulmates led him from the room and up a flight of stairs. “Oh, wow. I never thought I’d get to climb the _actual_ stairway to heaven!”


	146. platonic! Darcy & T'Challa for live-me-later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 17** - _platonic! Darcy &T'Challa with the prompt "make me!" for live-me-later_
> 
>  
> 
> _Occurs in a ‘verse which combines the events of The Kitty And The Kat, and[Breaking The Raft](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6856987/chapters/15651298)._

“Darcy,” T’Challa said in the patient tone he seemed to be having to employ more and more frequently these days, “no.”

“Darcy yes.” She grinned up at him. “C’mon, T’Challa.”

“ _Your Majesty_ ,” Jasuri hissed at Darcy, who as usual ignored her completely.

“I _know_ them, T’Challa. I know Steve and Sam and Wanda, and Clint too. They need a familiar face right now.”

He couldn’t deny the truth of that. Not considering the way Wanda, in particular, had looked when she stepped off that plane. Laura Barton had hovered over her protectively, but T’Challa had still been shocked by how thin and wan the young woman looked after just a few days in custody.

“Fine.” He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. Jasuri looked disapproving, but T’Challa ignored her. “Come on. I’m going to see them now; I need to talk to Rogers.”

Darcy happily linked her arm through his. “I knew you’d come around to seeing things my way.”

“Just remember that I promised Thor I’d look out for you and Doctor Foster, and don’t go looking for trouble?” he requested, making Darcy grin.

“I never go looking for trouble,” she claimed. “It occasionally falls out of the sky at me, is all.”

“Says the girl who tried to pick a fight with one of the Dora Milaje in the library at Culver.”

“I did not try to pick a fight! I was a little snippy, is all. And with good reason!” She laughed at his cynical expression. “Lighten up, T’Challa. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Do _not_ say that. You’re tempting fate. Behave yourself.”

Darcy grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. She was trying to make him laugh on purpose, he quite realised it, but her mischievous ways truly were lightening his dark mood and he couldn’t be angry with her.

“Make me,” she challenged, before digging her fingers into his ribs to tickle him, and sprinting off down the hallway laughing before he could seek revenge.

Of course, he could have caught her in a moment, but it was good to hear laughter in the palace’s sombre halls once again, even if only for a moment. Even Jasuri was smiling.

“Shall I catch her, Majesty?”

“No,” T’Challa replied. “Let her anticipate my revenge for a little while yet.”

Jasuri actually laughed at that, and T’Challa chuckled along with her, feeling his heart lighten for the first time in many days.


	147. Victor/Darcy for sorcha-lawhir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 17** - _“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.” Victor/Darcy for sorcha-lawhir_

**October 17** - _“I need one of those hugs that turns into sex.” Victor/Darcy for sorcha-lawhir_

As usual, when she went into their apartment, Victor was sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the last rays of the afternoon sun that slanted in through the living-room window. Just like a cat, Darcy thought with a fond smile, looking at his blissed-out expression. His eyes were closed, though she knew he was aware of her. Going to stand at the end of the couch, she leaned over and traced a fingernail very lightly up the sole of his foot.

Victor yowled and snatched his foot away, finally opening his eyes. He sat upright with a frown, which changed to a horrified gape as he saw Darcy.

“Darcy! What happened?”

“The mad science brigade, as usual,” Darcy sighed, rubbing at her sooty face. Her hair looked distinctly frazzled and singed around the edges. “Please don’t ask for details. It’s been the shittiest of shitty days, and right now I just need one of those hugs that turns into sex.”

Victor opened his arms to her wordlessly and she collapsed face-first onto his chest with a groan. Snuggling her tightly against him, he turned on his side to tuck her between his massive body and the cushioned back of the couch, enfolding her completely.

“Oh God, that is _literally_ the perfect hug,” Darcy mumbled into his pecs.

Victor pressed a kiss on her hair, wrinkling his nose at the singed smell but wisely not saying anything about it. “Tell me when you’re ready for the sex part!”


	148. Darcy/Magneto for bernt7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 19** - _"I'm not cheap, but I am on special this week" Darcy/Magneto for bernt7_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sequel to[ this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/18982828) that posted a couple of days ago._

“So,” Erik couldn’t stop gazing at Darcy in wonder, as they sat opposite each other at the cracked, peeling kitchen table in his tiny apartment. “Explain it to me again. You’ve been sent from the future to stop me doing… what?”

“Something that you hadn’t actually done in the future yet, but would have caused a complete disaster, possibly literally the end of the world as we know it,” Darcy said, a little despairingly. “I don’t _know_. They kept me in the dark, I think because giving me too much knowledge about you would possibly lead to disaster anyway. The same, or a different one.”

Erik considered her thoughtfully, warming her small hands around the cup of tea he had made for her. “And you’ve really never met Charles Xavier?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember, he’s quite distinctive,” Darcy gave him a little smile before sipping at her tea.

“So… why? Why would you agree to come back in time to confront someone you only know as the most dangerous mutant alive? When you hadn’t seen a picture of my face, and couldn’t know that I was the one you’d been dreaming about?” It didn’t quite add up, to Erik. “What did they offer you? Money?”

Darcy laughed a little bitterly. “I’m not cheap, but I am on special this week, apparently. No, the ‘ _only you can save the world!’_ schtick was enough to get me to sign on. Especially since they didn’t tell me that it was going to be a one-way trip.”

“I’m sorry they did that to you,” impulsively, Erik reached out, touched her hand. “It wasn’t fair.”

She took a deep breath, met his eyes and smiled again. “Eh. Doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, I’d have come anyway. Hanging out with superhero types, apparently all that nobility rubs off a bit. Who could turn down a chance to save the world, anyway? Even if I’m pretty sure that nobody is ever going to realize I did it.”

“ _I_ know,” Erik said quietly. “I’m glad you’re here, Darcy. I don’t want to become the kind of man who could do - whatever it is that I was going to do.”

“Well, then,” setting down her teacup, she took his hand, lying lax on the table. “Let’s go find out what’s great about 1980. Oh, oh, wait, I know what we have to do!” Her blue eyes brightened, and Erik found himself smiling at her infectious enthusiasm.

“What?” he asked, fully prepared to indulge her in almost anything she might desire.

“We gotta go to a Queen concert!” She considered. “Let’s find Bill Gates and Steve Jobs and invest in them, too. I think I’d quite like to be rich!”


	149. Christine Everhart/Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins for trooperschaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 20** \- _"Sorry miss, this area is off-limits" Christine Everhart/Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins for trooperschaf_
> 
> _Schaf asked for pre-Hydra, and to me the obvious time to set it was immediately post-Avengers. Boy oh boy, half of Manhattan must have been cordoned off while SHIELD removed all the Chiaturi debris._

“Heads up, Rollins,” Brock said in Jack’s earpiece, “incoming, your nine o’clock.”

“Of course there fuckin’ is,” Jack grumbled _sotto voce_ , dutifully turning to look for the latest nosey parker who just couldn’t resist trying to get an up-close look at the alien wreckage. Sixty blocks of fucking Manhattan was cordoned off and would be for at least another week, the National Guard holding that boundary while scientists from SHIELD and various other alphabet soup agencies picked over the wreckage.

Rumlow, Rollins and the rest of STRIKE Team Alpha didn’t get the nice jobs, however, and they weren’t in Manhattan. They were on the other side of the East River in a recently gentrified neighborhood called Hunter’s Point, where one of the ‘space whales’ had crashed half-in, half-out of the river, sprawling messily onto a park. It was actually the most intact one of the lot, having crashed at the end of the battle when the nuke had exploded the outer-space mothership and the wormhole shut down. All the others had suffered severe battle damage from the Avengers and crashing into various buildings.

All of the above was why Fury had his most eager scientists crawling all over the damn thing, and why it was only STRIKE agents guarding the prize. The Director didn’t want to share this one. And it was STRIKE’s job to make sure that nobody got past their cordon.

Rumlow was up in one of the mobile command posts built around the shipwreck, spotting for the ground team. Jack turned to his left now, eyes searching for the target that his team leader and soulmate had just called his attention to.

“Oh, Christ,” Jack said aloud, “it’s another fuckin’ reporter.”

“If they’ve got a TV crew or cameras bring them in so we can confiscate the gear,” Rumlow ordered.

“Nothing visible,” Jack scanned the area, but he could only see the single woman walking steadily through the park towards him. That didn’t mean she wasn’t carrying a hidden camera, though. He’d have to bring her in anyway.

“How do you know it’s a reporter, then?”

“Because it’s Christine Everhart of HIH World News. She’s pretty easy to recognize.”

Jack heard the indrawn breath. “Holy shit,” Brock muttered then. “Alright. Stall her. I’ll be right down. We’ll have to bring her in.”

“Copy that.” She was close enough, now. Jack stepped up to face her.

She was smaller than she looked on-screen, but even more beautiful, her golden hair silky and shining in the summer sunshine. She smiled up at him guilelessly, her pink-painted lips parting to no doubt try and feed him some bullshit line to get her past the cordon. Pretty sight though she was, Jack had no intention of falling under her spell.

“Sorry miss, this area is off-limits,” he said politely but firmly.

The pink lips stayed parted, and her eyes flew very wide before she smiled. “Well, am I _ever_ glad I found you,” she said.

“What?” Startled, Jack took a small step backwards.

“It’s all your fault I became an investigative reporter and made a habit of straying into off-limits areas in the first place!” Getting over her own shock, Christine smiled up at the tall soldier dressed all in black. She hadn’t missed the SHIELD logo on his shoulder, either. Stepping closer, she reached out to put a hand on his chest lightly, fingers grazing over the name ROLLINS stitched into the breast of his jacket. “I’m Christine…”

“I know who you are,” he said a little numbly. “I’m Jack, Jack Rollins…”

“What the fuck is this, a tea party?”

Rumlow had arrived.

Christine turned to face him, not dropping her hand from Jack’s chest, her smile widening as she looked Brock up and down. “And _you’re_ the reason that my mother used to take a strap to my bottom every time I said a rude word.”

It took a hell of a lot to shock Brock Rumlow; he’d seen too much. Even so, his jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widening before he looked at Jack.

“She’s for real?”

“Said my words, too.”

And there was no way she could have found them out, no matter how good an investigative reporter she was, because neither of them had their words on file. Still, Brock said “Show me.”

“Suspicious, aren’t you, Agent Rumlow?” Christine dropped her hand from Jack’s chest, turned to face Brock. “I’m not going to show you yours. That strap I mentioned my mom using? Right over your words.” She tapped her hand on her shapely ass for emphasis. Both men drew in sharp breaths, pupils blowing wide with lust.

“Though I suppose I could show yours, Jack,” she turned the full wattage of her smile on Jack before slowly unbuttoning the bottom button of her blouse. And then a second. Then a third… they both stared, spellbound, as she parted the silk to reveal Jack’s slanted handwriting scrawled across the smooth skin of her flat stomach.

“So,” she figured she might as well try her luck, “gonna let me take a closer look?”

“I’m afraid not,” Rumlow really did sound regretful as he returned his gaze to her face. “We need to bring you in to make sure you’re not carrying a hidden camera or anything like that, but that’s just to the mobile command unit, over there,” he pointed away from the crash site.

“Ooh,” Christine cast her eyelashes down, peeked sexily up at him through them. “Will I need to be strip-searched?”

“Only if you misbehave,” Rumlow’s voice was low and rough. “Please. Do misbehave.”

She couldn’t help a little shudder. “I’ve always had a bit of a kink for men in uniform.”

Jack had gone quiet; she sensed him moving around behind her but didn’t pay any special attention until she felt one huge hand curl lightly around her wrist… a second before cold metal clicked shut.

“Handcuffs? Kinky,” Christine said, but she shivered again and didn’t resist as Jack took her other wrist and gently clicked the other cuff on, securing her hands behind her back. His warm breath flowed over her neck as he stood close, one big hand holding both her wrists just above the cuffs.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly, “if you think that’s kinky, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Rumlow’s grin was heated, anticipatory, as Christine’s lips parted and she leaned back unconsciously into Jack’s touch. “Our shift finishes in forty minutes. Reckon it’ll take at least that long to get you searched and processed - and then we should escort you home. City ain’t safe for a lady alone when it’s gettin’ dark.”

“Such gentlemen,” Christine said a little breathlessly as he moved close, reached out to rebutton her blouse.

“I think you knew very well that your soulmates wouldn’t be gentlemen,” he said softly, eyes glittering at her. “And you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted to Crackship Armada Part 2, with a manip of the three of them together :)


	150. WinterWar, for taleasadubh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 22** - _“Stop undressing me with your eyes and start using your teeth.” WinterWar, for taleasadubh_

“I’m tellin’ ya, Stevie, she’s been checkin’ me out all night.”

Steve shook his head, laughing. Bucky was almost his old ebullient, confident self these days; a good clean fight brought out the best in him, always had. He’d been amazing that day, fought alongside the Asgardians and the Avengers to defeat Doom’s army of bots until Vision finally managed to hack the Latverian control centre and shut it down.

“I think she’d probably cut your head off with that big-ass sword for even lookin’ at her sideways,” he nudged Bucky, laughing.

“The question is, which head,” Sam, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, nudged Bucky on the other side. “Go on, Barnes, I’m really lookin’ forward to seeing you fall flat on your face.”

With both of them needling him, there wasn’t much he could do but back up his talk and walk the walk. The beautiful Asgardian warrior-maiden had been checking him out, he was sure, but what he wasn’t sure of was the etiquette for approaching her. He shrugged mentally and headed across the room to where she’d just finished her drink and set her empty glass down on the bar. She’d been talking to Wanda, who appeared to have taken a trip to the restroom, leaving Sif momentarily alone.

“Get ya another?” Bucky asked, nodding at the empty glass.

“I thank you, no.” Her silvery-gray gaze met his, a small smile playing about her perfect cupid’s-bow lips before she gave him a quite blatant scan up and down, the smile widening slightly.

“Y’know,” Bucky said, “You could stop undressin’ me with your eyes and start using your teeth any time you like.”

Sif’s eyes flew back to his in startlement, her smile disappearing briefly before coming back wider than before, showing her straight white teeth. “My teeth are sharp and my jaws strong,” she told him, reaching out to lightly flick at the thin cotton of his shirt. “Your clothing appears flimsy, so I do not think it would take very long.”

“Fine by me,” Bucky said, trying to keep his tone casual. He could hardly believe she hadn’t shot him down in flames already.

“Then let us start.” Sif stepped closer and leaned down towards his chest.

“Uh, uh,” Bucky stepped back hastily. “I, er, I don’t know how things are on Asgard, but here on Earth that’s an activity best done in private.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Thank you for advising me. I should not wish to shame you in public. Well, then, I shall take you to the chambers the Man of Iron has allotted for my use.”

And to Bucky’s utter shock, she scooped him easily up and slung him over her shoulder. He saw Steve and Sam’s expressions of goggling shock and waved and smiled rather weakly as Sif carried him past.

“D’you think we should do something?” Steve asked Sam, not even sure what they _could_ do.

“Nah,” Sam took a swig of his beer and grinned. “Reckon he’s gonna have a good time. At least he’ll die a happy man!”


	151. Daisy/Nick Fury soulmate fic for skoulson4life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 22** - _Daisy/Nick Fury soulmate fic for skoulson4life_
> 
> _I’m a little uncomfortable with the huge age difference between Daisy and Nick, so I offered the requester a choice between a platonic soulmates fic, or having Fury turn out to be a Seekrit Immortal. She chose the latter. Of course, this makes him even older, but it also doesn’t leave Daisy potentially alone within a few years as her soulmate dies of old age._
> 
> Takes place in the same AU as the [Fitz/Sif short](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/7342814) _I Am Not Worthy_.

“That’s right,” Phil said patiently, “Leo Fitz, my chief engineer, and the Lady Sif.”

“Soulmates.” Nick actually seemed lost for words. “ _Another_ human and an Asgardian. I thought Foster and Thor were some strange anomaly. Didn’t really think it was possible.”

Phil looked at him oddly. “Only Thor and the Warriors Three have even visited Earth in the last thousand years, from what I understand. Why should it be so impossible?”

Fury heaved a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, swinging back and forth, surveying Phil silently before saying “I suppose I know all your deep, dark secrets. I might as well trust you with one more of mine.”

Phil blinked at him curiously. “I have the feeling that this is gonna be good.”

“Fourteen hundred years ago, before Thor and Loki were born,” Fury said, “there was an Asgardian who thought that he was more fit to be king than Odin All-Father. In his hubris, he sought to make a deal, the same deal that Odin made; an eye for wisdom.” He lifted his hand to brush it almost absently over the eyepatch covering his left eye. “The warrior, however, wasn’t as strong as Odin. He failed to gouge out his eye completely, and Mimir, the guardian of the Well at Yggdrasil’s foot, refused the exchange. Odin, having learned of the warrior’s ploy to dethrone him, arrived at the well and made his judgement. The warrior was banished, never again to set foot on Asgard. Thrown down the Bifrost, half-blinded and no wiser than he had been a day before, he raged for many years against his plight, wandering the primitive world to which he had been banished.”

Electrified by the story, Phil just sat staring at Fury as the other man fell silent, slowly fingering his eyepatch. “What happened?” he asked finally.

“Oh,” Fury’s single black eye settled on him. “It took about a thousand years, but eventually he got over his fit of the sulks and realised that if he ever wanted to live among civilized people again, he’d better set about helping the race he’d been sent to live among achieve something. It had been a long time, but he remembered enough of his education to start talking to the smartest of the people he lived among. Nudging bright minds in the right direction. I - _he_ didn’t want to move directly, didn’t want to take the spotlight. It would draw too much attention, you see. Even so, it was little more than twenty years before what the world would call the Industrial Revolution was well under way.”

“You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?” Phil asked quietly. He’d guessed almost from the start of the story, but the single _I_ Fury had let slip confirmed it. Knowing that Elliott Randolph had managed to hide among Earth’s population for hundreds of years unsuspected, Phil wasn’t really surprised that Fury had managed it too. “Well. This does explain how you managed to survive being blown up and shot by the Winter Soldier and were somehow well enough to walk into the Triskelion a day later. And then rescue Fitz and Simmons in the Gulf of Mexico and turn up at the Battle of Cybertek…”

“Should have known you’d be wondering about that,” Fury said with a wry grin.

“I just assumed you had a stash of the Guest House drugs squirrelled away somewhere,” Phil replied sardonically.

“Don’t need them.”

“So I see.” Phil sat silent for a minute, collecting his thoughts. “So. You said you didn’t believe Asgardians and humans could be soulmates, before Thor and Dr Foster, and now Fitz and Lady Sif. Why is that?”

“Before I left Asgard, Frigga came to me. She… I…” Fury looked down. “Part of the reason I wanted to dethrone Odin was that I wanted Frigga for myself,” he confessed, shame-faced. “I was young and stupid and utterly ignorant, and the Queen took pity on me. She gave me a prophecy; that it was on Midgard where I would find my soulmate. I’ve been looking for _fourteen hundred years_ , Coulson. In the end I assumed that she’d meant something other than what I assumed; that my soulmate would be Midgardian. I figured that she’d meant that I would eventually meet someone of another race here on Earth - when I heard that Sif was here again, I wondered…”

Phil’s eyebrows flew up. “Damn, you must be really lonely,” he said finally.

Fury looked up at him again. “I wouldn’t go back to Asgard even if I could, because Earth is my home, now. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting my soulmate. Fourteen hundred years is a long time to wait.”

There was no denying that; it was a timeframe almost beyond Phil’s comprehension. Instead of speaking, he took his good Scotch out of his desk and poured Fury a glass. There really wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t be better expressed by the sharing of expensive liquor. Even if Fury’s apparently-infinite alcohol tolerance was now explained.

“So,” Phil said after they’d both knocked back a couple of fingers of whisky, “would you like to meet Sif and her friends?”

Fury shrugged. “Why the hell not. None of them were even born when I left Asgard, so it’s not like they’re going to recognise and out me. Obviously I’d rather this information wasn’t shared around…”

Coulson’s wry look made Fury smile slightly and nod. “There really is nobody I’d rather trust with my secrets than you, Phil.” He downed another shot of the whisky before getting up, shrugging into his black leather coat. “Come on, then, let’s get it over with.”

May saw them come in first; stood to greet Fury with a welcoming smile. Jemma forgot herself so far as to hug him, which left Fury looking startled but not actually all that unhappy. He patted Jemma gingerly on the back.

“Glad to see you looking so well, Agent,” he muttered.

“You too, sir,” Jemma muttered into his shoulder before stepping back and smiling up at him. Suddenly becoming aware of Daisy at her side, Jemma said “Oh… I don’t think you two have ever met, have you? Daisy, this is, uh, former Director Fury, Sir, this is Agent Daisy Johnson…”

“Also known as Quake, and formerly known as Skye,” Fury cracked a tiny smile. “I know who she is, Agent Simmons.” He extended a large hand to Daisy. “When two infamous people meet, there’s really not all that much need for formal introductions.”

Daisy laughed at that. “Infamous, indeed, sir.” She put out her own smaller hand to shake his.

Fury grunted with pain as Daisy gasped; both of them stared incredulously at their hands, stepping back from each other. Rows of tiny symbols and dots marched over Fury’s palm, leading him to say incredulously “Wait, that’s _Kree!_ ” even as Daisy gasped;

“What the _actual fuck_?” as she stared at the all-seeing eye now permanently imprinted on her own hand.

“How come _you_ recognise Kree script, sir?” Jemma focussed on what, to Daisy, was a distinctly unimportant question at the moment.

At least until Fury took a step back, looking distinctly uncomfortable at Jemma’s question, and Sif said

“ _Kartaw n’zhyr’ys_?”

Fury actually looked as though he was about to bolt, but Sif had her sword out in an instant. “Who are you?” she demanded. Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg, realizing that something was up, leaped to their feet, reaching for weapons.

Spreading his hands and still failing to look harmless, Fury replied “Who I am is no concern of yours, milady. The All-Father ordered me banished to Midgard before any of you were even born.”

Sif didn’t lower her sword, and to her own surprise Daisy found herself stepping instinctively between Fury and the tip of that drawn blade.

“Put it down, Sif, or you’re going to find out just why Inhumans are regarded as the bogeymen of the Nine Realms,” she said coolly.

Sif looked utterly shocked, and Fury reached out to gently touch Daisy’s shoulder.

“No need for threats here. I am no threat to them, and you do not want to set the Inhumans up in opposition to Asgard’s representatives. You’ve got plenty of problems right here on Midgard without picking fights off-planet.”

Sif lowered her sword then, looking at them both. “Wait,” she said, “I have only ever heard of one Asgardian being banished to Midgard permanently, Lord Nihk…”

“Your brother, you mean?” Fandral said tactlessly, and Fury’s jaw dropped.

“What?” he said numbly.

Sif was staring at him incredulously. “All my life, Heimdall has told me of you,” she said, “of our older brother who challenged Odin himself for Asgard’s crown…”

“And lost. I should have followed Heimdall’s path and served the All-Father,” Fury said bluntly.

Daisy was looking from one to the other of them in amazement. “You two are brother and sister?” she asked disbelievingly, looking at Fury’s black skin and Sif’s paleness.

“Skin colour characteristics aren’t inherited through Asgardian genes the same way that they are in Midgardian,” unexpectedly it was Volstagg who spoke, because Sif and Fury were just staring at each other.

Jemma immediately looked fascinated and drew Volstagg away to start pelting him with questions. Fitz, still looking deeply flustered, looked from Daisy to the newly discovered siblings and back again.

“I guess this is gonna make us in-laws, huh?” Daisy said with a sudden grin.

“Hah,” Fitz barked a startled laugh. “I’m not used to the idea of having an Asgardian soulmate yet and now I’m finding out that Director Fury is not only going to by my brother-in-law but that you’re _his_ soulmate. So forgive me if I don’t start calling you ‘sister’ just yet.”

“Why not, you’ve been treating me like one since we first met,” Daisy snickered, suddenly seeing the funny side of the whole situation.

Fury and Sif finally looked away from each other at the sound of their soulmates’ hysterical laughter. Daisy and Fitz were literally holding each other up, laughing like hyenas.

“Do you think they will share the joke?” Sif asked a little uncertainly.

“I’m guessing we really don’t want them to!”

“All these years on Midgard and you still don’t understand their humour? Thank goodness for that. I thought it was just me!”

 


	152. Helen/Steve, for backwardsandinhighheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 25** \- _“You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend/Girlfriend material.” Helen/Steve, for backwardsandinhighheels_

“Well, it’s not often that I see you in here,” Helen said as Steve staggered in, leaning heavily on Vision, and almost fell into a prone position on her examination table.

“It’s not every day that I manage to get my dumb ass fried with an alien blaster ray,” Steve muttered.

“I must return to the fray, Doctor,” Vision said, and she waved him off, going over to look at Steve.

“Where were you hit?”

Steve blushed. “Um. I was being literal about my dumb ass.”

Helen bit back a small smile. “Well, you’d better roll over and let me take a look.” _Not exactly the way I imagined getting my hands on the Buns of the Brave, but I’ll take it_ , she thought, as Steve blushed even redder, but rolled obediently to his front.

The seat of his pants was almost entirely gone on one side, showing that spectacular ass in… _oh_. Rather singed and angrily red glory.

“Dear me,” Helen murmured, “that _does_ look sore.” She leaned in to peer more closely at it. “I believe your super-healing is already at work, though.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled into his hands. “I wouldn’t have left the fight, only it’s pretty much over, and… and…”

“You were embarrassed about having your butt hanging out of your suit,” Helen surmised.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s up to you. I can put some burn cream on it…”

“No!” He flipped back over, face even more scalding red than his ass. “No, I, uh, I’d really rather you didn’t touch it. Maybe you could just _say_ that you did?”

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to _lie_ for you?” Helen crossed her arms and gave him a severe look.

“I, uh, uh, uh,” Steve stammered. She took pity on him and laughed.

“I owe you a lot more than that. You saved my life that day in Seoul when Ultron came to my lab.” Opening a drawer in her workbench, she pulled out a tube. “Here. You can put the burn cream on yourself. Though the offer’s open. Any time.”

Steve cursed his stubborn blush, which just would not go away. He always felt so damned awkward around the tiny, brilliant doctor. “We brought Ultron down on you in the first place,” he muttered awkwardly. “I don’t know why you’d want to associate with any of us.”

“Stark pays well,” Helen said flippantly. “And the eye candy’s incomparable.”

“What? Oh my God.” Trying to sound cool, Steve hastily added “Yeah, I’ve heard about your little crush on Thor.”

“Oh, I’m over that. Working with Doctor Foster, it’d be far too awkward to be lusting after her boyfriend. My taste still runs to the tall, blond and muscled, though.” She gave him a direct look.

“What?” Steve looked blank.

Helen sighed. Apparently she really was going to have to hit him over the head with a clue stick. Reaching out, she grabbed his sleeve. “Do you know what material this is, Steve?”

“Stark says it’s some kind of synthetic high-density spidersilk imitation that’s…”

Helen cut him off with a small fingertip pressed against his lips. “It’s boyfriend material, Steve.”

“It… is? Oh.” He suddenly felt impossibly dense as she gave him a slow, warm smile. “ _Oh_.”


	153. Darcy/Bucky, for nobutsiriuslywhat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 29** \- _"Make me." Darcy/Bucky, for nobutsiriuslywhat_

“What the… that girl has no more sense than a goldfish!” Bucky hissed under his breath. He’d been standing at the window watching the lightning coming steadily closer as the rain started to teem down when a movement below caught his eye and he recognised the young woman running across the grass in front of the facility.

She was soaked to the skin by the time he caught up with her, crouched in front of a low shrub, peering into the foliage.

“What in hell’s name do you think you’re doing?” Bucky yelled, grabbing her shoulder. Darcy jumped and screamed; she hadn’t heard his approach over the howl of the wind, the crashing thunder and the rain pelting down hard around her.

“I saw that stray cat I’ve been feeding, the poor thing is hiding in here, she must be petrified!” she had to shout over the noise of the storm.

Bucky had indeed seen the cat Darcy mentioned, a young, semi-feral tabby who so far wouldn’t let anyone near it. Darcy had been coaxing it slowly closer each day with tuna and scraps of steak.

“You’re out of your mind!” he yelled in her ear. “This is a freaking hurricane, Darcy, it’s dangerous as hell out here!” He winced as a nearby tree crashed down with a horrible cracking sound as its trunk splintered into a thousand pieces.

Darcy glared up at him. “I’m not going inside!”

“Yes you are!”

“Make me! I’m not leaving without the cat!”

For an instant, Bucky debated just throwing her over his shoulder and running for the facility. Another tree crashing down, even closer, decided him. He plunged his metal arm into the shrub and brought it out with the scratching, yowling cat clutched firmly in his fist.

“Let’s go, you madwoman!”

He refused to let Darcy try and take the enraged, terrified cat, instead making her run ahead of him back to the facility. Inside, he slammed the door behind them, shoved the cat into a nearby room he knew was pretty much empty and slammed the door.

“Oh, I need to take care of her…” Darcy tried to open the door.

“Not right now. Let her calm down. I’ll give her some food in a bit, but you’re not going in there. You’ll get scratched the hell up, and you’ve already given me quite enough heart failure for one day.” Grabbing her shoulders, cold and soaked inside her sweater, he shook her gently. “You are a thousand times more important than any cat, Darcy. Please don’t do anything like that again.”

Startled, beginning to shiver from the cold, Darcy stared up at Bucky in astonishment. That was as many words as she’d heard him speak in all the long months he’d been at the Avengers Facility, and the look on his handsome face was utterly sincere.

“Why… why do you care?” she asked through chattering teeth, and Bucky sighed loudly and kissed her.

It was a long time before he let her up for air, and when he did, Darcy no longer felt cold at all.


	154. Deadpool/Darcy/Gambit, for tabby-beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 31** \- _"Is that all your mouth is good for?" Deadpool/Darcy/Gambit, for tabby-beast_

“This is a safehouse?” Darcy said dubiously, double-checking the address she’d scribbled on the back of her hand when Maria read it down the phone to her. “Because it looks like total upper-middle-class suburbia to me. I’m pretty sure you have to have two kids and a labrador to qualify for residency.”

“Shut up and go round to the back door,” Maria said in amusement.

“Please tell me that the key isn’t hidden under a brick. I’ll be so disappointed. Oh,” as she got to the back door and found a numerical code lock on the door. “All right, I take that back. What’s the number?”

“I’m not sure I want to tell you after your crack about my taste in safehouse locations.”

“But you’d be totally adorable living here with two kids and a labrador!” Darcy giggled as Maria made a sound of horror down the phone before giving in and telling her the code to open the door.

“Two to three days and someone will be by to pick you up,” Maria promised, “now take the SIM card out of that phone and destroy it.”

“Will do,” Darcy agreed, closing the door behind herself. She looked around the kitchen she found herself in. “But I hope there’s ice cream in that freezer!” The last thing she heard before hanging up was Maria’s laughter.

Darcy had just smashed the SIM card to bits with a meat tenderizer she found in a drawer when she froze, hearing a noise from somewhere inside the house. She eyed the door, debating whether to bolt, before gritting her teeth and pulling her Taser from her purse. She could deal with intruders.

Or maybe not, as she stepped cautiously through the door into the next room fully prepared to Taser anyone present and a tall man who’d been standing right next to the door smoothly relieved her of the weapon.

“Not today, chère,” he said in a thick Cajun accent, but he didn’t try to grab her, so Darcy didn’t panic. Not until cold metal touched her neck and she looked around to find a long, gleaming blade held by a second man wearing a red and black, fully masked skinsuit.

“I’d rather not die today either,” she couldn’t stop the tremor in her voice, “so please put that down.”

“Wade, the lady had the code,” the Cajun said, his voice amused, “I really don’t think we’re in any danger.”

The sword lowered, a little bit. “I dunno,” the skinsuited man said, “she could be Hydra.”

“I’m not Hydra!” It was an indignant squeak, and the sword lowered slightly further. She couldn’t really tell, but she thought that was a smile behind the mask.

“Yes, but you’d say that even if you were, wouldn’t you? It’s like the two doors with the guards. One always lies and one always tells the truth but Sarah’s only allowed to ask one question.”

“Did you… did you just use _Labyrinth_ as a reference when deciding whether or not to kill me?” Darcy said incredulously. “Because it makes no sense, since there’s only one of me.”

“Never mind him, he’s an idiot,” the Cajun reached out with Darcy’s Taser and tapped on the very sharp-looking blade still pointing at Darcy. “Put it away, Wade, and let’s get acquainted with this lovely _mademoiselle_ who apparently must also hide out here with us. _Enchanté_ ,” he bowed elegantly to Darcy, “I am Remy LeBeau, and this _bouffon_ is Wade Wilson.”

“Is that really all your mouth is good for, flirting?” Wade grumped, putting his sword away. “Quit it. I saw her first.”

“Yes, but you also pointed a sword at me for way too long,” Darcy pointed out.

“Only because Remy told me I had to play the bad cop!”

“You’re the one with the handcuffs, _cher_ ,” Remy chuckled. Indeed, Darcy saw, there was a pair of handcuffs hanging on Wade’s belt alongside multiple little pouches and weapons sheaths.

“You like it when I use my handcuffs,” there was a distinctly lecherous note to Wade’s voice, and Remy laughed again, unabashed.

“ _Oui_ , but I am not sure if our guest will!”

“I could be persuaded,” came out of Darcy’s mouth, rather to her surprise. But then Remy was very sexy, and while she couldn’t see Wade’s face, he was tall and definitely well-muscled under that skinsuit.

“Indeed?” Remy said, a wicked grin spreading across that handsome face. “Well, perhaps the time until we can leave will pass much more pleasurably than I expected!”


	155. Bucky/Darcy/Rumlow for punklegacydragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 31** \- _"I don't like being told what to do unless I'm naked." Bucky/Darcy/Rumlow for punklegacydragon_

“Get down!” a loud voice yelled in Darcy’s ear for the _n_ th time that day and she was shoved to the ground, a heavy body landing on her back as a gun cracked loudly just above her head.

Under other circumstances, she might not have minded Brock Rumlow throwing himself on top of her. He was seriously hot, after all. Running for her life and getting shot at was not one of those circumstances, however, especially as he was also seriously fucking heavy. His body armour dug into her back as one strong hand forced her head down.

“Ouch,” she grumped when he finally let her up. Bucky was standing over both of them, guns extended in both hands, sharp blue eyes flicking about intently, looking for further dangers.

“Stop complaining, you’re alive, aintcha?”

Darcy sighed, dusting herself off, conceding that Rumlow might be right. Probably was right. He and his grumpy part-cyborg partner had saved her life several times in the space of the last few hours, even though she suspected it might actually be their fault she’d been endangered in the first place.

"Two o'clock," Rumlow snapped suddenly, pushing Darcy down again, and there was another crack of gunfire.

Darcy just sighed and resigned herself to lie on the floor for a while. At least until Rumlow’s strong hand curled around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet. "Come on, we're moving again!"

She wasn't quite sure what made her say the next thing that came into her head. "You know, I don’t really like being told what to do unless I’m naked."

Rumlow’s head snapped round and he stared at her, mouth agape. Bucky reacted faster.

"Well, that could be arranged," he said with a very wicked grin. Rumlow started grinning as well, although Darcy thought it was really more of a smirk.

"Sure could, sweetheart."

Darcy tried to bury her face in her hands, a little difficult when she was being dragged along at a sprint. "Can you just forget I said anything?"

"Not with an offer like that on the table!" Bucky retorted.

It was several hours and many many orders later, when they were finally holed up in a seedy motel in a town Darcy didn’t even know the name of, that the subject was revisited.

“So,” Bucky said, setting his guns down on the bedside table, “ready to get naked and take orders?”

“What?” Darcy froze, gaping up at him.

"You say you like taking orders when you’re naked," Bucky murmured, sitting down on the side of the bed where Darcy had finally collapsed, his blue eyes tracing down along her body.

"Or was that comment just in the heat of the moment?" Rumlow queried.

Darcy bit down on her lower lip. The thought of either of them giving her orders in bed, never mind both of them - well, it had been on her mind ever since first meeting them, because they were both utterly gorgeous. They were both watching her now with hungry eyes, just waiting for her decision.

“I… think I should probably eat something first,” she hedged, playing for time, though she already knew she was going to end up giving in. And having the night of her life, with any luck.

Rumlow threw something to Bucky, who snapped a hand up with almost unbelievable speed to catch it out of the air. A wallet, Darcy saw.

“Go get the lady some food, Buck. Don’t want her fainting of hunger on us.”

“I’ll go stock up. Reckon we’re _all_ gonna need the energy!”


	156. Bucky/Darcy/Steve for notastupidname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 31** \- _“You say you’d be the best fuck I’ll ever have? Prove it.” Bucky/Darcy/Steve for notastupidname_

 

 

Darcy was getting well and truly tired of the way her boyfriends were stepping so carefully around her. The first few weeks of their relationship, she’d been floating on a cloud, unable to believe that the two most attractive men she’d ever met, not to mention actual superheroes, wanted HER. _Both_ of them. And they were willing to share her, if she was willing to be shared.

Or at least, they _said_ they were. The actual _doing_ of it appeared to be quite another matter. Frustrated, she launched a flurry of kicks and punches at the punchbag Natasha was holding steady for her.

“Better, but still sloppy,” Natasha said critically. “Nice and hard, though. That would have hurt.”

“Good.” Darcy sized the bag up and hit it again, imagining the rock-hard abs of a certain blond supersoldier. She’d hurt herself more than him but it was still satisfying to think of.

“What’s the matter, Darce? You seem frustrated.”

“Hah!” She threw another punch. “Damn right I’m frustrated. What’s it called when the _guy_ won’t put out?”

Chuckling, Natasha let go of the bag, reached to help Darcy remove her gloves and the wrapping on her hands. “Old-fashioned moral codes spoiling your fun, huh?”

“Worst part is the teasing,” Darcy sighed. “Barnes in particular. Keeping telling me how good they’re gonna make it for me, and then there’s just lots of kissing and touching which is _so good_.” The problem was that the kissing and touching addled her mind to the point where, when they stopped, she was literally incapable of speech. At which point they would, as though she’d given some sort of unspoken signal, both pull back and make regretful noises about pushing her too far.

Not far enough, in Darcy’s opinion. Never far enough. She confessed all to Natasha’s sympathetic ear as the pair of them sat drinking coffee, Darcy gloomily drawing little puddles with a drop of spilled coffee on the table’s glass surface with her fingertip.

“You need to make them an offer they can’t refuse,” Natasha said finally.

“Like what?”

Natasha grinned. “Oh. I got some ideas.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve,” Bucky said uncertainly, “I think you should look at this.”

“Hm?” Steve turned his head, reached for the phone Bucky offered. “What is that?” He frowned at the image on the screen.

“Pretty sure that’s our bedroom.”

“Right…”

“It’s the first of a series of messages I just got.” Bucky swiped across the screen. The second image was of a foot, a foot they both knew well, daintily arched, the toenails scarlet-painted. Steve had kissed those toes, sucked them into his mouth. Kissed his way up the calf shown in the next image, though he’d never gone past the knees. Certainly he’d never kissed…

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, swiped across the screen again. Steve’s eyes bulged out.

“Holy _shit_.”

“You already said that.”

Steve reached for the phone, hands a little shaky. “What the hell is she doing?”

“I think she’s reached the limits of her patience. Check out the last message.”

Steve swiped again, thinking that the images couldn’t _get_ any more explicit. The last message wasn’t a picture, though. It was just a text.

_You two keep saying you’ll be the best fuck I’ll ever have. Time to prove it._

“Race ya,” Bucky said with a grin, running for the door before he even started speaking. Steve was only a single step behind him.


	157. Rumlow/Rollins/Darcy for pnrdrnk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 31** \- _“Where do you think you’re going?” Rumlow/Rollins/Darcy for pnrdrnk_

“I guess I’ll just, uh, leave you to it,” Jack muttered, getting up and heading for the door as Brock’s hand slid up under Darcy’s shirt.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Darcy’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Startled, he turned back to look at her, hand still on the door handle.

“I’m… I assumed you didn’t particularly want me here. Since you two are,” he gestured at them, snuggled together on the couch, Darcy half across Brock’s lap where she’d slowly moved during the course of the movie they’d been watching. “Y’know. About to get it on.”

“ _I_ assumed that you two came as a package deal. Since you both invited me over,” Darcy looked at him, then at Brock. “Was I wrong?”

Brock blinked, surprised, looked over at Jack as well. “To be honest,” he admitted, “you’d been giving both of us signals, we weren’t sure which one of us you were interested in. If either. Figured we’d invite you over and you could make your preference clear.”

“And the other one would just gracefully bow out?” Darcy rolled her eyes. “I was giving both of you signals because I’m interested in _both_ of you.”

Jack took a cautious step away from the door. “You don’t mean that you can’t choose between us. You mean both of us _at the same time_.”

“I’m wondering now if _I’m_ the one who misinterpreted something,” Darcy said, a bit bemused by the surprise they both exhibited. “I got the impression that while you both like girls, you’re not averse to some mutual entertainment once in a while? Certainly I know neither of you are homophobic.”

Brock cracked a grin. “Can’t imagine what gave you that idea. Was it when I told you about that time we were trapped in the safe house in Bogotà and traded hand jobs?”

“You did not!” Jack gaped at his partner.

Darcy giggled at Jack’s expression. “I had just asked him why he trusted you so much. He said you’d held both his life and his dick in your hands.”

Jack had to laugh. “True.” He took another tentative step towards the couch, to where Darcy was still in Brock’s lap and his hands were still up inside her blouse. “I’m much more interested in getting something else in my hands though, frankly.”

Tossing her hair back, Darcy gave him a sultry look over her shoulder. “I like your hands. They’re _big_. So bring them over here and get a handful.”

“C’mon, Jack,” Brock coaxed.

“Ain’t never shared a girl with anyone before,” Jack said, a bit sheepishly.

“Aw, how cute, an orgy virgin.” Darcy grinned wickedly up at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be gentle!”


	158. Victoria Hand/Sif, for chandak562

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 5** \- _“Ah, ah, not till I give you permission.” Victoria Hand/Sif, for chandak562_

“This is the miscreant who possesses the information we require?” Sif asked, staring at the man who stared back at them through the bars. “I shall deal with him for you.”

The man sneered and spat; Sif sidestepped nimbly. “Ain’t no bitch gonna make me talk,” he said arrogantly.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Well. Let’s disabuse him of that notion, Sif.” She pressed her thumb to the lock on the cell door; it clicked and slid open. The prisoner started forward with a feral grin, fists coming up, obviously thinking that they were utterly foolish to open the door without making him put restraints on first.

Sif’s single punch to his jaw set him straight. It also sent him flying across the cell to crash into the wall and slide unconscious to the floor.

“Too hard, honey,” Victoria clicked her tongue, headed over to look at the prisoner. She picked up the styrofoam cup of water on the single shelf in the cell and dashed it in the man’s face. He groaned and opened his eyes, gazing up at her vaguely.

“Start talking,” Sif nudged him hard with one booted foot, “before I start breaking your bones, one by one.”

“Ah, ah,” Victoria placed a soothing hand on her arm. “Not until I give you permission.”

“You’re determined to make me wait again, aren’t you?” Sif said with a roll of her eyes.

“Patience brings the best rewards, dear.” Letting go of Sif’s arm, Victoria turned back to the prisoner, poked him with her own elegantly shod foot. “Now, I strongly advise you co-operate. Or I’ll let her start breaking bones. _More_ bones. Pretty sure your cheekbone’s already done for, to be honest.” She eyed the rapidly purpling mark on his face critically.

“What do you want to know?” the man croaked, trying to ease away from Sif as she cracked her knuckles and smirked. “Anything. I’ll tell you anything!”


	159. Fitztasha for fuckyouimafox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 5** \- _Fitztasha (authors choice) for fuckyouimafox_
> 
> _I really do love writing FitzNat. So much opportunity for hilarity._
> 
> _I chose “Lick it”. :D_

The most enticing scent in the world drew Fitz to the kitchen, nose in the air sniffing at the delicious tendrils of scent wafting through the base. He found, to his surprise, Natasha in there, stirring a huge pot on the stove and singing to herself quietly in Russian.

“Oh, I, uh, pardon me,” Fitz stuttered. Natasha turned to smile at him.

“Quite all right. You’re not disturbing me.”

“That smells so good,” he couldn’t resist saying. “What is it?”

“ _Borscht_. Traditional Russian recipe. It’s been a while since I had the chance to make some, and I found everything I needed in your pantry. Come here,” she beckoned him closer. Fitz approached, inhaling deeply.

“It smells so good!”

“You like it?” Natasha looked pleased. “A lot of people don’t. Here,” she took the spoon she’d been stirring with out of the pot, offered it to him. “Have a taste.”

“Uh,” Fitz blinked. “What?”

She smirked at him, green eyes gleaming. “Lick it, Fitz.” She held the spoon close to his lips.

It was completely impossible for him to be in the same room as Natasha without thinking about sex anyway, Fitz had long realized. She just exuded sensuality from every pore. Hearing her say _lick it_ in those sultry tones, that smirk curving her red lips, had him _very_ grateful that he was wearing loose-fitting pants.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, licking at the spoon. “Mm,” he said, “wow, that tastes as good as it smells.”

“Wait until you taste it with a dollop of sour cream stirred in.” Natasha tossed the spoon into the sink, grabbed another one from the drawer and started stirring again. Her eyes flickered across to his. “You’ll _really_ enjoy yourself then.”

He had the sinking feeling that she knew very well he was aroused just being in her presence. Clumsily, he took a couple of small steps back, discovering that it was quite uncomfortable to walk. Natasha’s eyes gleamed as she smirked again.

“Come back soon for another taste, Fitz,” she purred.

He fled without another word, cheeks burning.


	160. Tony/Daisy for aelwing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 7** \- _“I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.” Tony/Daisy for aelwing_

“Hey, baby.”

Daisy twitched as Tony’s arms slid around her shoulders, his mouth pressing on her neck. His goatee tickled. She took one hand off the keyboard long enough to bat at him ineffectively. “Not now, Tony. I’m right in the middle of this hack.”

He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling at it lightly, his hands moving up to cup her breasts.

“Not now!”

“Come on, baby. It’s late and I’m horny. Let’s go to bed,” Tony wheedled. “I’ll rock your world.”

“If you want to be useful, go get me a cup of tea. Seriously, Tony,” she pushed him off, her eyes never leaving the screen, right hand tapping out commands. “I would rather have a cup of tea than sex right now, good though you are.”

He gave a dramatic sigh and threw himself into the chair beside hers, pouting. “Fine. FIIIINE. What’s this hack that’s got you so absorbed you can manage to resist my outrageously sexy self?” He reached out to turn on the screens in front of him. “I’ll help. The sooner we get it over with, the sooner I can have you screaming my name.”

Daisy smiled at her screen even as her fingers flew over the keyboard. She’d known there was no way Tony would be able to resist. And it _would_ go faster with the two of them working together.

It was about an hour later that Tony hummed in thanks as Daisy quietly set a cup of tea down by his left hand. She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Hack’s over, Tony. We got into their mainframe. Time for bed.”

“But this is really interesting,” Tony said, eyes trained on the screen, “look at this tech…”

Daisy laughed quietly at the role reversal, and quite deliberately spun his chair around away from the computers before seating herself on his lap. “ _Now_ who’s too absorbed to have sex?”

Tony chuckled as she leaned in to kiss him. “I am _never_ too busy for sex, and most certainly not with you!”


	161. Daisy/Bucky for avioletfrost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 9** \- _“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Daisy/Bucky for avioletfrost_

"Look, I'm sorry I shot him."

"It's not just that you shot him, but that you _killed_ him and I needed to question him first!" Daisy snapped back, but it was hard to stay angry with Bucky for long, especially since she knew he really had probably have saved her life. Again.

"I thought he was gonna hurt you," Bucky said defensively.

“I know. Coulson’s still gonna be pissed," Daisy sighed.

Bucky nudged the dead man with his toe. "We could search him?"

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Somehow I don't think there’s a map in his pocket with ‘location of our secret base’ on it, and I already hacked his phone.”

They searched the man anyway, but came up with nothing. "I really am sorry," Bucky said again.

Daisy gave him a small smile. "And how are you going to make it up to me?" she asked, a coquettish note in her voice.

Encouraged by this evidence that she wasn’t really mad with him, Bucky moved towards her, holding his arms out for a hug. "I don't know. I could think of something, maybe."

Daisy wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “Yeah? I’ve got some ideas, too.”

They were kissing fiercely, entwined in each other’s arms, when a loud cough behind them startled them apart.

“ _Seriously_?” Mack said, shaking his head at both of them. “Seriously, over the body of a dead man in the middle of a mission? You two have _no_ sense of appropriate timing.”

“I just have an irresistible girlfriend,” Bucky claimed, grinning back at him. “Any time is appropriate, far as I’m concerned.”

Mack just rolled his eyes, shouldered his shotgun-axe and turned away. “May found another one,” he threw back over his shoulder. “We’ve got the location of the base. We’re moving out. And please try to keep your hands off each other until we’ve finished saving the world this time!”


	162. Frank/Darcy for badwolf1688

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 9** \- _“Kiss the hell out of me. Please.” Frank/Darcy for badwolf1688_
> 
> This is a continuation of the AU where Darcy takes Frank to her sister’s wedding. ( _Excellent Taste In Dogs_ AU).
> 
> [Part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/14503855), [Part 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/15568999), [Part 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/16380307), [Part 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/18907433)

"Time to throw the bouquet!" one of Darcy’s sisters shouted, and there was a sudden scrum of women rushing towards the dance floor.

Much to Darcy's surprise, her mother nudged her ribs. "Go get that bouquet, you."

"Mother!" Darcy exclaimed. "Seriously? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stood and tried to catch the bouquet. It’s never going to happen, I’m five foot two and the others all tower over me. There’s no point.”

"Well, you've never had a man worth catching it for before now, have you?" Darcy’s mother gave her a very surprising wink and nodded towards Frank.

With a sigh, Darcy looked at the group of her variously divorced sisters, her older nieces, and glamorous friends and family members. She was definitely the shortest in the group even in her heels, there was no way she was getting it. Glancing across the room, she saw Frank sitting in in his chair at the table, scratching Bunny and watching her, smiling. "You can do it" she say him mouth at her.

Darcy suddenly felt the urge to laugh. What the hell. She'd already made an idiot of herself a few times that day anyway. Getting in line and looking like she was making an effort would please her mother and amuse Frank; she could humor both of them in this small thing.

"Ready, steady, catch!" Darcy threw up her hands by sheer instinct, her feet leaving the ground as she sprang up. The prickly mass of flowers slamming into her grasping hands was a complete and utter surprise.

There was a moment of silence and then Darcy's oldest niece, Jennifer, said “Hah. That was pointless. Mom said you _hired_ your date to come along anyway,” under her breath, but quite loudly enough for Darcy to hear, before turning her heel and stalking away with her friends.

Frank was a good thirty feet away, laughing and applauding Darcy’s gazelle-like leap and graceful catch - that was an impressive feat in those heels, he thought - when he saw her face turn pale beneath her carefully applied makeup. “Stay, Buddy,” he ordered his dog before jumping to his feet and crossing the room to Darcy in swift, purposeful strides, his expression murderous. Someone had upset Darcy yet _again_. He was beginning to get really annoyed with her family.

“Darcy?” It was all he said, his voice soft.

She looked up at her with her lips tremblin. “Kiss the hell out of me. Please,” it was barely a whisper, but Frank had long ago learned to read lips. He didn’t hesitate, sliding his hands into Darcy's hair, not caring that he was making a mess of the careful arrangement, slanting his mouth down over hers in a fierce, passionate kiss. Nobody watching could be in any doubt of how he felt about her after that, he was quite sure… and _everybody_ was watching.

It was Darcy's mother who eventually separated them, tapping on Frank’s shoulder with a calm “Thank you, dear, I think you've made your point.”

"Not yet," Frank said, lifting his head, releasing Darcy and falling to one knee right there on the dance floor, taking her hands in his.

"Oh. My. God. Frank, you are not doing what I think you're doing,” Darcy squeaked, wide-eyed with shock.

"Darling, you already know I’m no good at doing what I’m expected to do."

The room was absolutely silent, everyone staring, Darcy’s mother absolutely pop-eyed with shock.

"Darcy Louise Lewis, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she managed to squeak out through a throat swollen almost closed with the happy tears she had to fight to hold back.

“Excellent,” he grinned up at her, let go of one hand and put his fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle rent the air and Buddy leapt up to come rushing to his side, claws skidding on the polished dance floor.

"Does the dog really have to be in on this too?”" Darcy's mother asked despairingly.

Frank reached out to tug loose Buddy’s neatly fastened bowtie. “Yes, he does. He's got the ring."

"A ring?" Darcy gasped. "You’ve already got a ring?" Something sparkling fell from the loosened knot into Frank’s hand. “Has Bunny had that all day?”

“Sure.” Frank held the ring out for her inspection. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said softly when Darcy gasped at the delicate beauty of the vintage ring, a red ruby surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds. She held out a trembling hand and he slid the ring onto it carefully, having to push to get it over her knuckle. It looked pretty on her hand; he kissed her fingers gently and rose to her feet to pull her into his arms and kiss her again.

They’d been oblivious to the silently staring, watching crowd. Loud cheers and applause startled them both; Buddy barked loudly and Frank stopped kissing Darcy to lean down and put a hand on the scarred pittie’s head.

“It’s okay, Buddy. She’s all ours now!”


	163. Batroc/Beth for shiniestqueen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 11** \- _“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.” Batroc/Beth for shiniestqueen_

“So, this is the woman you want me to watch?” Batroc glanced up at the man walking beside him.

“She’s a good friend, Georges, and this ex of hers is giving her trouble. I’m a bit too obvious to be an unseen minder.” Steve shrugged awkwardly.

“My fee’s pretty expensive for _just a friend_.”

“Money’s not the issue.” Steve gave him a direct look. “I know you can do the job. And yes. _Just_ a friend.”

“All right, _mon ami_ , it’s your money,” Georges shrugged. “Your friend is certainly not hard on the eyes, it will be no trouble to watch over her.”

“Leave off with the Gallic charm, Batroc,” Steve chuckled, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Unlike you, I am not blind to her beauty! But don’t worry, _mon ami_ , I will not be so distracted by the lady’s beauty to forget to watch her back as well as her lovely face.”

Batroc grinned to himself as he watched Steve walk away. The two of them would never truly be friends, despite what he called Steve, but they certainly respected each other. Batroc had, after all, only been doing what he was paid to do by Nick Fury aboard the _Lemurian Star_ , distracting Steve from figuring out what Natasha was up to in the ship’s computers. Their first meeting after that hadn’t exactly been amicable, but at least they hadn’t been trying to kick each other’s heads off. They’d worked together a number of times since, and there was a level of trust built up between them now.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was his second day watching Beth when she paused on her doorstep and said “You might as well come in. It’s cold out tonight.”

Startled, Georges paused for a moment before stepping out of the shadows he’d been using for cover. “Do you make a habit of inviting in complete strangers who are following you around?”

“Only the ones Captain America has assigned to bodyguard me.” Beth folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Come on. I want a glass of wine. You can guard me perfectly well inside.”

He shrugged and headed on up the steps, feeling her eyes on him as he approached. She stepped through the door first and he followed, closing and locking it behind him.

Beth kicked off her shoes and headed for the kitchen, opening the fridge with a sigh and pulling out a wine bottle. “Want some?” She set two glasses on the counter.

He went over to look at the bottle, wrinkled his nose. “ _Non, merci_.”

“A French wine snob, what a surprise.” Beth poured herself a generous glass and took a gulp. “That _is_ a French accent, right?”

He bowed wordlessly.

“And do I get to know your name, my unwanted French bodyguard?” She took another gulp and eyed him over the rim of her glass.

“Georges,” he said finally. “That is all you need to know.” She was even prettier up close, her blonde hair looked soft and touchable, escaping from the complex knot atop her head.

“Right, Georges. Well, the fact is that I’m going to a party tonight, and if you want to watch my back you get to be my plus-one. Or you don’t get in, and you get to tell Steve that you lost track of me for the whole evening.” She smiled sweetly, hoping he’d fall for it. The date she was supposed to be taking had backed out, and she really didn’t want to go alone to her boss’s birthday party where literally everyone else would be in a couple.

A little surprised, he nodded. “Do I need a suit?”

Beth’s eyes ran over him, over the close-fitting black pants and black roll-neck sweater he was wearing. “No, you’ll be fine. I need to get changed, though. If you’re going to be snobbish about my wine, there’s vodka in the freezer!”

Shrugging, Georges investigated. She had much better taste in vodka than she did wine, he noted; poured himself a shot and knocked it back. “How are we getting to the party?” he called towards the door of Beth’s bedroom, where she’d disappeared.

“I figured you could drive me!” she called back cheerfully.

“ _Vous êtes une friponne_ ,” he said, shaking his head with a soft laugh as Beth reappeared, arm crooked up behind her back.

“I have no idea what you just said but it sounded terribly sexy. Be a darling and zip me up?”

He’d never been so thrown off balance by a woman in his life, not even the first time he met the Black Widow. He almost swallowed his tongue as he gazed at the long expanse of back revealed as Beth swept her hair over her shoulder and glanced back at him.

“ _Merde_ ,” Georges said under his breath, realizing that he was in serious trouble. Taking a deep breath, he set his fingers to the dress’s zipper and slid it slowly up. Her skin felt even softer and sleeker than the silk as his knuckles brushed her back. Even as he was telling himself that this was a terrible idea, that getting this close to the person he was supposed to be bodyguarding was deeply stupid, Beth turned and smiled up at him.

The dress from the front was awe-inspiring, a plunging vee of a neckline drawing his eyes inexorably to her breasts. The turquoise colour set off her eyes to perfection.

“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight, _ma sirène_ ,” Georges muttered huskily.

“Pretty sure that’s your job, cute stuff,” Beth patted his cheek with a wink, turned her back on him and sashayed off to fetch her shoes.

“I am so doomed,” Georges realized with a sinking feeling. He wasn’t even going to wind up accepting Rogers’ money for the damn job, he could see it now. “So, Beth,” he said as she slugged down the last of her wine and picked up her bag. “Tell me about this _cafard_ who is giving you trouble.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Vous êtes une friponne_ \- You are a minx
> 
>  _ma sirène_ \- my siren
> 
>  _cafard_ \- cockroach


	164. Daisy/Rollins for dwynn5002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 14** \- _Daisy/Rollins "I love it when you're rough" for dwynn5002_
> 
> This one is very NSFW. Don't say I didn't warn you.

“Daisy!” Jack yelled, letting the door slam behind him as he stormed into their apartment. “For God’s sake, what’s this I hear now about you taking on a dozen bad guys on your own?”

She looked up from where she was sitting on the couch with her tablet, rolled her eyes at him and said “Same shit, different day,” before going back to reading.

“This is why you have a team! Specifically, this is why you have a STRIKE team led by yours truly at your beck and call!” Firmly, he removed the tablet from her hands and set it down on the coffee table.

“You’re not superpowered,” she pointed out with a sigh, letting him pull her up from the couch.

“Why no, just body-armored and with twenty years combat experience and twenty highly-trained soldiers to back me up,” Jack retorted sharply. “If you’re going to get difficult about calling STRIKE in because you’re worried about me, I’ll take the decision out of your hands and we’ll let Coulson be the one who makes the call!”

“But then I’d never get to go in at all!” Daisy protested immediately, her lower lip jutting out mulishly.

“Your call,” Jack folded his arms and scowled down at her. “I’m gettin’ just as bored at being left out of fights as _you_ would be if we left it up to Coulson who goes in.”

She sighed and puffed her cheeks out before nodding reluctantly. Jack wouldn’t hesitate to go over her head if he thought she was endangering herself, and she really _should_ have called for backup before plunging in headfirst today. “All right. I promise.”

“Good. We promised our personal relationship wasn’t going to affect our professional one; I won’t let it, so just make sure _you_ don’t.”

“I already promised,” she gave him a pout, and he chuckled, shaking his head at her.

“Alright, sweetheart. I just don’t like being deprived of the opportunity to kick ass, you know that.”

She did know that; smiled as he unfolded his arms and reached for her. “You do look very sexy when you’re in kickass mode.”

“Glad you think so.” He leaned down for a slow, lingering kiss, before suddenly hefting her off her feet and over his shoulder, making Daisy squeal with shock.

“What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Nope,” he steadied her with a large hand clamped down on her bottom, carrying her towards their bedroom with long strides. “Gonna teach you a lesson about what happens to bad girls who don’t obey orders.”

Daisy’s small gasp made him grin as he tossed her face-down on the bed, coming down after her to cover her with his bigger body, one huge hand grasping both hers and pulling her wrists above her head. His other hand pulled free the handcuffs on his tac belt and within a moment he had her secured to the central post of the wooden headboard.

“Jack!” Daisy squeaked with protest as he ripped her leggings and panties clean off, leaving her bare from the waist down, secured and vulnerable there on the bed. She twisted her head to look back at him, had to bite back a groan as she saw him stand up and slowly unfasten his belt.

“On your knees,” Jack ordered, his voice a hoarse rasp.

Daisy quivered as she silently obeyed, pressing her forehead against the pillow and closing her eyes. Waiting, listening to him methodically removing his clothes, folding each item neatly to place on the chair by the bed.

“I can see you getting wet,” Jack said softly, and Daisy moaned into the pillow. “What do you think I’m gonna do to you?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. While they’d been sleeping together for a few weeks, this was the first time he’d done anything like this, anything remotely kinky.

“What do you _think_ I should do, naughty girl?” Jack smoothed a big hand slowly over her ass, admiring the soft, sleek texture of her skin, the way goose-bumps sprang up in the wake of his touch. She’d knelt with her knees well parted, even though he hadn’t ordered that, and he could see her slick shining. Deliberately slowly, he traced a finger around one rounded buttock and up between her thighs, swiping swiftly over her clit before plunging it suddenly into her hole, withdrawing it just as fast.

Daisy gave a little wail, straining back towards him desperately. “Fuck me. Oh god Jack, please, please!”

He smiled, enjoying the frantic note in her voice, popping his finger into his mouth to taste. “Mm. Sweet, and so wet. No, naughty girl, if I give you what you want straight away that’s not much of a lesson you’ll learn, is it?”

Both hands landed firmly on her ass, moulding and squeezing her buttocks. “I’m gonna give you a safeword,” Jack said. “Do you understand what that’s for?”

“Yes,” she mumbled into the pillow, nodding her head. “What is it?”

“ _Handcuffs_. Okay? You say that, I stop and I take them off, all right?”

Daisy nodded again. A fine tremor ran through her as Jack squeezed harder, fingertips biting in. “Don’t stop,” she said, muffled. “I… I love it when you’re rough.” It was almost the first thing she’d noticed about him, those powerful, callused hands, the sheer leashed strength he held so casually in reserve. She’d wanted, _needed_ those hands on her body. And she’d gotten them, but never in the way she so desperately craved. Not until now, when those hands held her in a powerful grip she wouldn’t have tried to escape from even if her hands had been free.

“Do you now,” Jack rumbled, squeezing harder, hard enough that there would be small bruises from his fingers in the morning. Daisy moaned with fierce pleasure and he let go, pulling back. “You’re not supposed to be enjoying this. Not yet, anyway.”

The first spank made her jump and squeal. Jack chuckled roughly before his fingers slipped back between her legs, testing. “Oh, I think you like that, don’t you?” She didn’t have to speak; the evidence was undeniable, her slick drenching his fingers. “Well, well. It seems as though you’re an even naughtier girl than I realized.”

Daisy sobbed his name, arching against him, desperate for more. Jack withdrew his fingers immediately.

“Oh no, naughty girls don’t get what they want.” Leaning over to her nightstand, he pulled open the top drawer. She had a few toys there, he already knew; though they hadn’t experimented with them yet, he was too nosy not to have looked. Selecting a small black butt plug, he coated it with lube and teased the tip lightly over her ass.

“Oh my god,” Daisy said, muffled, into the pillow. This was way, way more than she’d bargained for. And so goddamn exciting she thought she might just come from this alone; from Jack’s dominant teasing.

“Ain’t no god gonna help you now,” Jack kissed the small of her back as he began to ease the plug in. She shuddered under him and he pressed harder, pushed until the flared part of the plug was lodged inside, watched her ass close and squeeze on the narrow part just before the wide base. “How’s that feel?”

She made an incoherent noise.

“Use your words, Daisy.”

“Please,” was the only word she could make come out, and Jack chuckled roughly again.

“I really like it when you beg. Should’ve done this before, I see,” and his hand came down again in another spank, only this time it smacked right on top of the plug, jolting it inside her… at the same time as his other hand sneaked between her legs and pinched sharply at her clit.

Daisy came so hard she saw stars.

When she came back down to earth, Jack was buried deep inside her, the fingers of one hand beneath her playing with her clit. “You’re such a bad girl,” he told her when she made a questioning sound. “Such a very bad, bad girl.” He rolled his hips, his groin pressed against the plug in her ass hard, and his free hand smacked down on her outer thigh.

“Yes,” Daisy panted. “Yes, yes, I’m really, really bad oh god Jack please please PLEASE!”

The last thing she heard before ecstasy smashed through her again was his low, pleased laughter.


	165. Darcy/Skye/Remy, for amusewithaview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 16** \- _“Stress-induced superpowers” Darcy/Skye/Remy, for amusewithaview_

“There is no such thing as stress-induced superpowers,” Darcy scoffed, staring incredulously at the pretty young woman and the stupidly handsome man who’d been SHIELD’s first responders.

“Tell it to Deadpool,” the man said with a wry grin.

“What?”

“Never mind,” the woman said, shoving the man in the ribs sharply. “It’s not as though everyone in the world has the potential to manifest superpowers, Miss Lewis.”

“I’m just special, huh?” Darcy sighed, flopped back in her chair and looked around the all-white room they’d taken her to. “You’d better call me Darcy. Since I’m guessing that I’m stuck with you for a while.”

“I’m Skye, and this is Remy.” Skye gave her a conspiratorial smile. “And yes. You’re special. Most people who develop powers do so either through external intervention, like super-serums or a process called Terrigenesis…”

“Or some of us are just born with them,” Remy interjected.

“Us?” Darcy looked at him sharply.

“ _Oui, chère.”_ He looked amused. “What, did you think that we were assigned to your case by chance? _Non.”_ He flicked his wrist, and a playing card appeared suddenly in his hand, caught between index and middle fingers. Darcy was about to scoff again, say that she’d seen that one before - the card had clearly been up his sleeve - when the card suddenly caught fire, burning with a bright purple flame. Remy flicked it lightly up in the air and fine flakes of ash drifted down to the table between them as it burned away to nothing.

“Ohhhkay,” Darcy said slowly, and for the first time looked at Remy’s eyes, realized that they were definitely not quite human, a red core burning on pure black. She couldn’t look at those eyes for long, turned to look at Skye. She, at least, _looked_ human, if a very attractive example of the species. “And you?”

“Remy has a rather finer control over his power than mine,” Skye said with a regretful smile, “if I try to demonstrate in an enclosed space, things tend to start breaking.”

“Do not beat yourself up about that, _ma belle,_ ” Remy murmured, placing one large hand over Skye’s. “Remy has had many years to learn his power. You will get there.”

Skye gave him a warm look, and Darcy realized that the pair of them were rather more than just work colleagues. The thought of them in bed together was so hot that she blanked out for a minute… until Remy dumped a bucket of cold water he’d had sitting beside the table over her head.

“What was that for?” Darcy exclaimed, spluttering and glaring at him.

“Your hair was catching fire again. I don’t know what you were thinking,” Remy’s sly smirk suggested that perhaps he could guess, “but maybe you should refrain from thinking about it until you have learned to keep your powers switched off, _chère.”_

Darcy buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “Why me? Why do I have to develop the Hair Whips Of Fire superpower? It’s _so_ not cool.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Skye disagreed. “It looked pretty damn sexy when you were hair whippin’ the asses of those guys trying to kidnap Dr. Foster.”

They’d got that from the lab’s surveillance footage, Darcy knew. She smiled into her hands.

“That _was_ kind of cool, wasn’t it?”

“Not so much ‘cool’ as really freakin’ hot,” Skye disagreed, and Darcy dared a glance up to find the other girl giving her a very intense come-hither look.

“You got another bucket of water?” Darcy turned to look at Remy.

“Why?”

“I think we’re going to need one.”

Remy gave Skye a knowing look, turned to smirk at Darcy. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we go conduct this interview in the shower? We can keep your hair permanently wet in there.”

Darcy considered. “Is it a big shower?”

“Tragically, no,” Skye said with a fake-sorrowful look. “It’d be a pretty tight squeeze in there.”

“We’d have to get quite close, _chère_ ,” Remy added.

“... I have the feeling that we should probably go _now_ because I think my hair’s gonna catch fire again!”


	166. Bucky/Helen for nurselaney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 19** \- _"I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” Bucky/Helen, for nurselaney_

Bucky had originally thought that being designated to bodyguard the little scientist was an easy job to help get him back into the swing of things.

He soon discovered that it was nothing of the sort. Dr Cho’s science was at the level where everybody wanted it, and some people would stop at absolutely nothing to get it. After he’d thwarted half a dozen attempt to kidnap her, he realised that he couldn't possibly maintain his proper professional assistance. When Helen cried in his arms after the last attempt, clinging to him desperately, Bucky knew he was lost. He was well aware that starting a relationship with one's principal breached the first rule of bodyguarding, he knew that he couldn't help himself. He was already in way over his head.

And Helen, well she said that she felt the same way, that he was just as important to her, that she couldn't live without him either. So they became secret lovers, but he was far too afraid of tarnishing her reputation, to allow the relationship to become public. Helen wouldn't have cared, it didn't bother her in the slightest, but she humored him. Bucky thought that it wouldn't bother him either, at least until he saw one of her fellow scientists trying to hit on her at a conference where she was a keynote speaker.

"What the hell was all that about?" Helen snapped, shoving the door of the hotel room closed behind her and storming over to Bucky. "I was in no danger with Dr Park! I was just having a talk with him!"

"I know that," Bucky muttered, "but I just… I didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at you."

“You were _jealous_ ,” her magnificent eyes widened with surprise. “ _Bucky_. You were standing right there. Why didn’t you just put your arm around me or something? Dr Park just assumed you were there as security!”

“I was just there as security!”

“No you were not!” she was right in his face now, standing on tiptoe to look him in the eye, poking a slender finger firmly against his chest. “You are there as my boyfriend, and believe me I would have been quite happy for you to make that clear and shut Park up once and for all, he’s been trying to get in my knickers since we were in medical school!”

Bucky blinked. “He has?”

“Yes, he has, and no doubt he’ll be doing it all through the dinner this evening even though I’ve long since made clear to him that I’m not interested!” Her eyes shimmered, and Bucky, a complete sucker for a damsel in distress, never mind Helen who he adored with every fiber of his being, wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“No, he will not,” he vowed.

“How are you going to stop him? You wouldn’t even let me arrange you a seat at the table, you’ll be standing against the wall with the other security!”

“I’m going to make it very clear that you’re a taken woman. That you are sexually well-satisfied and have absolutely no need of another man.”

“Really,” Helen’s mood changed as Bucky lifted her off her feet and carried her over to the bed. “And how are you going to do that, darling?”

“I know that dress you’re planning to wear is pretty low-cut in front.” He eased the top button of her blouse open, worked his way downwards spreading the silk apart. “So I’m gonna leave a few brands on you.” Setting to with his mouth, he sucked a thick, dark hickey into the tender flesh of the upper slope of her breast. Helen moaned with pleasure, fingers sliding into his hair to hold him close.

“Yes,” she whimpered as he moved up, started suckling another mark onto her collarbone. “Yes, Bucky, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised darkly, his fingers coming up to pinch at her nipple through the fragile lace of her bra. “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks until _everyone_ knows you’re mine.”


	167. Remy/Darcy for burningsunshin3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 19** \- _"Try me if you dare" Remy/Darcy for burningsunshin3_

“And who’s Tall, Dark and Dangerously Sexy?” Darcy nudged Maria Hill and nodded across the room at the only person present she hadn’t been introduced to yet.

“Yeah, Darcy, the operative word there is _dangerous_ ,” Maria said with a single glance to see who she was looking at. “Remy LeBeau is Trouble with a capital T. All the letters capitalised, actually. And in bold italics. **_TROUBLE_**. Don’t go there.”

“Shame,” Darcy murmured, taking a sip of her drink. LeBeau had cast her more than one glance across the room, raking her up and down with his gaze, a smirk on those full, kissable lips. He really was far too gorgeous, though, and he just as obviously knew it. “Trouble can be fun.”

“Maybe for a one night stand, but any more than that is just more hassle than it’s worth,” Maria said with a surprisingly sisterly grin, taking a sip of her own cocktail. “And LeBeau’s not even worth that. Trust me, Darcy. Keep your distance. He’s the kind of man who will have your world turned upside down in a hot minute.”

Maybe Darcy had already tried one too many of the lethal concoctions Natasha was dispensing from behind the bar, but she thought that sounded pretty good, actually. She drained the last of the suspiciously pink stuff in her glass and set it down on the bar as Maria departed, heading off across the room to rejoin the conversation she’d been having with Steve and Rhodey.

Looking thoughtfully into the empty glass, Darcy swirled the cherry on a cocktail stick that Natasha had put in the glass around in the couple of drops left at the bottom before lifting it to put in her mouth.

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when a deep voice purred in her ear “Such a sensual picture, a beautiful woman eating a cherry. You make my knees go weak, _cherie_.”

It was completely not fair that he had a panty-melting accent to go along with that face, Darcy thought, quite glad she was sitting down because otherwise _her_ knees would probably have melted.She chewed and swallowed the cherry slowly before swivelling on her bar stool to look up at Remy. He leaned on the bar beside her, his leather coat stretching tight across broad shoulders, long brown hair falling to his shoulders.

“Another drink, _cherie_?” He reached out and tapped a long finger on the rim of her empty glass.

“Probably a terrible idea,” Darcy said a little regretfully. Natasha really did make a mean cocktail. “I mean, you already look fantastic even without me being properly drunk. If I had another one I’d probably forget that I’ve been warned that you’re trouble, with all capital letters and in bold italics, no less.”

“ _Moi?_ ” Remy gestured at himself, eyes wide and innocent, before he laughed. “ _Oui_ , Remy is trouble, for sure. Did you never get yourself into trouble, Darcy Lewis?”

He’d taken the trouble to find out her name, and it sounded utterly, stupidly sexy in his Cajun accent.

“Sometimes,” she said, her voice distinctly higher than it should be.

“Because trouble can be fun, _non_?” He smirked at her, eyelids drooping sensually. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear “Try me if you dare, _cherie_.”

It was a terrible idea. She knew it even without seeing Maria rolling her eyes as they walked past together on the way to the elevator. Still, trouble could be fun. And Darcy was willing to bet that Remy LeBeau was about to give her a night of the most fun she’d ever had in her life. If he brought trouble to her door, well… maybe that was a price worth paying.


	168. Steve/Daisy, for magickgirl786

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 22** \- _“Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.” Steve/Daisy, for magickgirl786_

“So the question on every girl’s lips,” the reporter gushed, “is ‘Is Captain America available?’ and I have the man himself here to ask.” She turned back from the camera to a distinctly uncomfortable-looking Steve, shoving her microphone under his nose. “What do you say? Is Captain America in the market for a girlfriend?”

“Oh God,” Daisy muttered under her breath to Natasha, as they both stood watching Steve mumble and prevaricate, attempting to avoid answering the question.

“Go rescue the poor man,” Natasha chuckled. “About time you two went public anyway. Doubt you could keep the secret much longer.”

That was perfectly true, and since Steve was looking ever more uncomfortable as the reporter pressed and nagged, Daisy determined that there was no time like the present. Putting on her best Nat-emulating stalk-walk, she strutted up to Steve and stood beside him, smiling at the reporter.

“And we're joined by Quake,” the reporter looked at the camera again. “Good afternoon, Ms. Johnson…”

“Good afternoon. Excuse me, Steve,” she put a hand on his biceps and he instinctively leaned down towards her.

“Yes, dar… Daisy?” He _just_ managed to cut off the slip of _darling_ in time. Daisy smirked up at him.

“Could I borrow a kiss, _darling?_ ” She emphasized the word deliberately. “I promise I'll give it back.”

Startled, Steve blinked at her. “Wh…” was the only sound he managed to get out, though, as Daisy’s hand curled around the back of his neck and she pulled him down to give him a very thorough, passionate kiss right in front of the camera… and a live TV audience of several hundred million viewers.

Finally letting Steve up for air, Daisy licked her lips with a pleased sigh before turning back to smile at the gaping reporter. “Sorry, girls. I'm afraid the Captain is very much _off_ the market.”


	169. Steve/Darcy for multi-fandom-girl2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **November 24** \- _"The Star Spangled Man with a-Oops, sorry." Steve/Darcy soulmate meet-cute for multi-fandom-girl2_

"So," said Jane, peering around the palatial room they’d been led to, "what do you think they’re like?"

"The other Avengers?" Darcy shrugged. “I expect they’re okay. Stark’s been pretty nice to _you,_ anyway."

"Well, I think he kind of had to be, because Thor would be pretty annoyed if he wasn't," Jane responded. "I just wonder about the others, you know? They all seem fairly… I don't know… _intimidating_."

"Well, Hawkeye was nice, that time we met him in New Mexico," Darcy pointed out. "He bought you a very large bottle of whiskey after the whole thing went down, anyway."

"Yeah, but the others…" Jane shrugged. “I don't know. I guess I'm just being silly."

Darcy grinned, and gently poked her friend. “Don’t be silly. You are a brilliant scientist, and the Avengers are lucky to have you. There’s nothing to be scared of, I'm sure in no time you will have them all wrapped around that tiny little finger of yours."

Jane shook her head, laughing. "Darcy, don't be silly, _you're_ more likely to have them eating out of your hand, or at least your baking," she teased, knowing quite well Darcy was nursing a crush on one of the Avengers. "Do you think Captain America likes brownies?"

Darcy gave her a light shove, chuckling. "You know that _everyone_ likes my brownies! I'm sure even the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan will enjoy them!”

" _What?_ " Jane said, eyes wide.

"Haven’t you ever seen those old showreels with Captain America and his troupe of USO showgirls during World War II? Selling war bonds and singing about punching Hitler in the face?”

Jane shook her head incredulously. “I do not believe that this occurred, Darcy. You’re making it up.”

Darcy grinned. “Oh my God, have you _ever_ got some laughs coming, I know just where to find those online. Stark’s probably got copies just for annoying-the-Captain purposes anyway."

Going up on tiptoe in a mockery of a showgirl pose, sticking her chest out and tossing her hair, she sang "Who’ll rise or fall, give his all for America? Who’s here to prove that we can? _The Star-Spangled Man with a Plaaaan!_ "

Darcy danced and twirled around, not noticing the look of horror on Jane’s face, or the throat-cutting motions the other woman was frantically making at her. Doing a high-kick and a twirl, she lost her balance a little and stumbled into an extremely large and solid person standing just behind her. “Oops, sorry!"

Darcy’s eyes tracked up, and up. To recognise the face of the very man whose old routine she’d just been parodying to try and make Jane lighten up and stop worrying. She wanted to fall through the floor with humiliation, and from his expression Steve Rogers felt pretty much the same way, his mouth open, his blue eyes wide with shock.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to mock you, I was just trying to tell Jane about the old World War II…" Darcy trailed off, a red blush creeping up across her face.

Steve swallowed. “That's quite alright," he said. "You're already forgiven."

It was Darcy's turn for her jaw to drop open, her eyes going very wide.

"Uh, Darcy," Jane said, “isn’t that your soulmark?”

"I was wondering that," Steve said, "since mine happens to be _oops, sorry_.”


	170. QuickQuake, for agentskyebarnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 2** - _“Is there a mirror in your pocket? QuickQuake, for agentskyebarnes_

“So he got hit with what now?” Daisy asked as she stared down at the unconscious, white-haired speedster.

“He got a small dose of something when the booby trap in the lab went off. If he hadn't been so fast getting out of there he might not have made it,” May added grimly through her earpiece. “None of the lab research animals did. Simmons is on her way, Daisy, hang tight.”

“Don't see that I've got much choice,” Daisy muttered with a sigh. Pietro had blurred into the containment module and activated the quarantine override before realizing that she was there, where she'd been running a system diagnostic on the controls.

“Oh shit, you shouldn't be in here!” he'd said on that thick accent of his before collapsing unconscious at her feet.

The familiar shudder of Zephyr One taking off shook Daisy out of her temporary paralysis. Looking down at Pietro, she frowned. He'd really gone down in a very awkward position, his head angled into the corner. Crouching down, she tried to shift him; cursed under her breath as she discovered that he was quite a lot heavier than he looked.

“Heavy bastard, aren't you?” she muttered in the end, grabbing him by the ankles to drag him into the center of the module.

“Ummm,” Pietro groaned, eyelids cracking open slightly. His gaze fell on Daisy and he smiled vaguely. “Oh. Hello. Is there a mirror in your pants?”

“What?” she blinked at him, startled.

“Because I can see myself in them. Although you look very good in them. They’re very tight. Do you need any help getting out of them?”

Daisy couldn’t help a startled laugh. She’d barely spoken to Pietro thus far; her team had arrived to find the speedster investigating the facility they’d been there to raid for his own purposes. Once they identified themselves as SHIELD, he’d been willing to accept their help. Though not their advice. Which was how he’d got himself dosed with something that was apparently trashing all his inhibitions.

“I would absolutely love to help peel you out of them, I am just saying,” he blinked unfairly long lashes over bright blue eyes, pushing himself up to a sitting position and eyeing her legs appreciatively. “I did not get your name earlier? A very rude oversight on my part. I’m Pietro…”

“I know who you are, you’re the idiot who didn’t listen when we warned you that lab could be booby-trapped,” Daisy said, but it was hard even to sound annoyed when he flashed her that charmingly boyish grin.

“Well,” quicker than she could see, he’d taken her hand in his and was suddenly pressing a kiss to the backs of her fingers, “I shall make sure to _always_ do as you say in the future.”

Daisy’s mouth was very dry. Totally lost for words, she stared into Pietro’s eyes. He smiled up at her, kissing her fingers again, more slowly this time.

“Simmons’ quinjet will be landing in a few minutes oh my God Daisy get your tongue out of that Avenger’s throat!”


	171. Bucky/Jemma for bellemeri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 5** - _"I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.” Bucky/Jemma for bellemeri_

For the first time since he moved in to her apartment, Bucky didn’t wake Jemma up with a cup of tea. He didn’t wake her up at all. For the first time, she woke to find him lying beside her, his handsome face relaxed in slumber.

Jemma didn’t dare move for fear of waking him. It was fortunate, she thought, that she was habitually a very still sleeper; the slightest movement near him would have Bucky snapping awake. He slept very little anyway, only a few hours a night. Often she woke to find him sitting by the window, staring silently out at the stars.

 _This is the first time I’ve ever seen him asleep_ , it occurred to Jemma, and she lay very still, just watching. Wondering if it meant that he felt safe around her. She suppressed the impulse to touch his stubbled cheek. Despite his horrendous past, Bucky was the most amazing boyfriend. She’d grown quite used to waking up in the morning to the tea he always brought her.

Even if it _was_ the most disgusting tea known to mankind. Still, she’d soon figured out how to avoid drinking it… she would just tempt Bucky back into bed, and by the time they’d finished making love, the tea would be totally cold. She had the perfect excuse to pour it out and make herself some fresh.

Jemma would have sworn that she didn’t move, but Bucky’s blue eyes suddenly snapped open. He surveyed her in silence for a moment before smiling.

“Hey. You woke up before me.”

“First time,” she agreed, smiling back at him. “I was just missing my morning cup of tea, actually.”

“Yeah? You never drink it anyway.”

She knew she’d given herself away with her rapid blink; Bucky laughed. “Is my tea really that bad?” His arms snaked around her waist, pulled her close and rolled her beneath him, grabbing her hands and pulling them up over her head, nuzzling against her neck. “Or am I just that good a lover you don’t care that your tea always goes cold?”

Jemma rolled her eyes at him when he lifted his head to look at her, blue eyes laughing. “Don’t _you_ think a lot of yourself. I would rather have a cup of tea than sex right now.”

“God, you’re _such_ a bad liar,” Bucky shook his head. “How did you last five minutes undercover in Hydra?”

“I’m still wondering that myself,” she confessed. Her body had already betrayed her, hips tilting upwards to cradle Bucky’s groin, her heels hooking over the back of his thighs. Her nipples were hard and aching against his chest.

“So, shall I go and get you that tea?” Bucky teased.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she demanded, lifting her chin in a frantic effort to reach his lips. Chuckling, Bucky lowered his head and kissed her, letting go of her hands at last. She promptly grabbed a double handful of his hair and kissed him back.

“No tea, then?” Bucky checked laughingly when she had to pull back to breathe.

“No tea!”


	172. Wintershock for lokisgirl2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 9** - _“I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.” Wintershock for lokisgirl2014_

“Who’s that prick talkin’ to her now?” Bucky growled. Maria looked across the crowded room, tilting her head slightly.

“That’s Foggy Nelson… he’s a lawyer. Lovely guy.”

“He’s a lawyer, can’t be that decent,” Bucky grumbled. “Don’t trust his face.”

“You really have got it bad, Barnes. How long have you and Lewis been dating, again?”

A blush suffused Bucky’s face. “Two months,” he muttered. “Too soon to go public.”

“And this is as public as it gets, hmm?” Maria looked around the crowded room. Stark Industries’ annual Christmas charity gala got bigger and better every year, especially with the chance to rub shoulders with Avengers thrown into the deal. Tickets were a hundred thousand dollars a pop and had sold out on the same day they were released. Stark had just auctioned off a date with Sam Wilson for just under a million bucks.

Neither Maria nor Darcy were Avengers, of course, and there was no way they could have afforded a ticket, but they were both on duty. Darcy worked for SI’s PR department these days, and Maria was actually the Avengers’ official manager. Not that she thought any incidents might crop up tonight. Even Stark was being on his best behaviour.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” Beside her, Bucky went from semi-relaxed to on high alert instantly, stiffening.

“God damn it, he wasn’t on the guest list. He’s come in as somebody’s plus-one…” even as she spoke, Maria was scanning the crowd, looking for Stark. She saw Christine Everhardt wearing a self-satisfied smirk and knew immediately who’d brought the unwelcome guest. She’d wondered where Everhardt got that kind of money. Now she knew.

“ _Who_?” Bucky almost vibrated with agitation.

“Justin Hammer.” Darcy had spotted Hammer and was heading in that direction, Maria noted with relief; she could trust Darcy to head him off. Now to find Stark before he found out…

“I got him,” Bucky said coolly.

“No, Barnes, it’s under control, stay out of it…” Maria was talking to empty air. She sighed. Ah well, with Darcy _and_ Barnes running interference, it was highly likely Hammer would even get a chance to make trouble. She spotted Pepper through the crowd then; she wouldn’t be far from Stark. Determined to head off trouble before it started, Maria headed in that direction.

Bucky knew who Justin Hammer was; the man was on the (long) list of those with a personal vendetta against members of the Avengers. He headed towards him, fully intent on bodily removing the industrialist from the party. A little surprised to see Darcy get there ahead of him, he slowed his pace, thinking that she was probably intending to coax the man out with her patented blend of ingenuous charm and clever manipulation. He should leave her to it, Darcy could probably manage Hammer without making a scene.

Aware of Bucky standing only a few feet away wearing his stone-cold-murderface, Darcy tilted her head and gave Justin Hammer a winsome smile. “Good evening, Mr Hammer. I’m…”

“A really hot piece of ass,” Hammer slurred with a lurch in her direction, and Darcy realized to her horror that he was drunk. “Fabulous tits, babe. Bet ol’ Tony loves to shove his face in those, c’mere and let me motorboat…”

Darcy had never wished harder for her Taser, but there was really nowhere to hide it in the spectacular designer gown Pepper had bought for her, insisting it was a work expense. Fortunately, it seemed that she had something far more lethal than a Taser, because before Hammer’s slobbering mouth got anywhere near her cleavage, a cyborg metal hand closed around his throat and lifted him off his feet.

Hammer made a startled gurgling sound… and then went completely silent, suddenly feeling a lot more sober as he saw his own death prophesied in the Winter Soldier’s ice-blue eyes.

“I ever see you within a mile of my woman again,” Bucky said fiercely, “I will tear off your nuts and make you eat them. Do you understand?”

Hammer could only gurgle in assent, but the terror in his eyes made his meaning clear. Bucky’s fingers whirred open and the industrialist tumbled to the floor, landing on his ass before scrambling up and fleeing as fast as his legs could carry him.

“ _Your woman?_ ”

Bucky winced at Darcy’s incredulous tone, turned a sheepish look on her. “Sorry, doll. It just slipped out.”

She smiled, laying a hand on his arm. “Bucky, I’m not mad. I don’t mind at all. You’re the one who wants to keep our relationship private. You’ve kind of let the cat out of the bag now, though, you possessive idiot.”

“Yup,” Bucky agreed, smiling back down at her, knowing from her tone and fond expression that she wasn’t at all mad with him. “ _Your_ possessive idiot.”

“You could be possessive some more,” Darcy suggested, “Hammer wasn’t the only idiot I’ve had to fend off tonight, just the drunkest… being visibly the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend might well be quite effective anti-asshole armor…”

“Well, in that case,” Bucky’s arms tightened around her as he bent his head, “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks until everyone knows you’re _mine._ ”


	173. Darcy/Bucky for creed-88

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“You're taking up a lot more room in this closet than I am. Shove over!" Darcy/Bucky for creed-88**

“If I were an evil mastermind, where would I hide my super-secret safe full of super-evil plans?” Darcy said thoughtfully, planting her hands on her hips and looking around the room.

“Less standing around and more looking for it, Lewis,” Bucky said gruffly, moving past her and starting to check behind picture frames. “We’ve only got five minutes before someone notices we’re gone from the party.”

Darcy made a face at his back. He was right, as usual. She knew very well that she’d only been sent along with him because a couple disappearing from a swish party was a lot less suspicious-looking than a man on his own.

“They’ll check the bedrooms first, thinking we’ve sloped off for some nookie.” Still, she crossed to look underneath the ornate desk. No sign of a hidden trapdoor. She pulled up the rug beside it. No dice.

“ _Nookie_?” Bucky gave her an amused look.

“Don’t look like it’s totally unbelievable, I look pretty damn hot thank you!” Darcy planted her hands on her hips again and stared at him. She was wearing a very nice designer cocktail gown, courtesy of Maria Hill and the Avengers’ ‘Undercover Budget’ … whatever that was… which she had no intention of giving back afterwards.

“That’s not what I meant…” Bucky suddenly froze, his head turning. “Shit. Quinn’s coming here.”

Darcy’s head snapped around, looking frantically for an exit, but she knew all too well that there wasn’t one. Shit, they were going to get caught… and Bucky wasn’t armed. They’d all been scanned for weapons on entry.

“Oh shit,” she said under her breath as Bucky, far from panicking, calmly withdrew a long black knife from his sleeve. “Where did you get that?”

“Brought it with me. It’s ceramic. Invisible to metal detectors. Stark does nice work.” Bucky flipped the knife in his hand, smiled toothily.

“And we’re not supposed to get caught, never mind kill Quinn and all his minions!” Something caught Darcy’s eye. “Quick. Into the closet!” They’d seen that on the building plans, Quinn kept a small wardrobe in his executive office.

Bucky gave her a disgusted look as she dragged the door open, but slid the knife back up his sleeve and allowed himself to be pulled into the closet after her. There wasn’t a lot of room… there were a bunch of large cardboard boxes stacked in there, actually, only a couple of suits on a hanger. Darcy ended up face-first in the expensive fabric, breathing in Quinn’s cologne and trying not to gag, Bucky pressed against her back.

Bucky only just got the door clicked closed behind them when they heard voices in the outer office.

Darcy couldn’t make out what was being said, but she had no doubt that Bucky, with his enhanced hearing, could hear every word. She shoved back at him with her elbow.

“Move over,” she hissed.

“Can’t, no room.”

She rather suspected he wasn’t being entirely truthful about that. One big hand had slipped around her waist, was pressing against her stomach, holding her back against him. He bent his head and grazed his lips lightly against the nape of her neck, below the piled mass of her hair.

“Is it so bad being in here with me, doll?” he whispered in her ear.

“... _now_ is the time you pick to turn on the forties charm?” It was knee-meltingly hot, being pinned up against him like this, and she was fairly sure he was enjoying himself too. The only problem was the strong scent of cologne rising from Quinn’s suit really was making her feel sick. “You’re taking up a lot more room in this closet than I am, and I’m going to vomit from the scent of this suit in a moment. Now shove over!”

He snickered quietly in her ear, his arm around her waist tightened, but instead of moving over he shifted them around. In a moment Darcy found her back pushed up against the stack of boxes, both of Bucky’s arms around her now as he bent his head to whisper almost against her mouth “Is that better?”

It most certainly was, because now the sickly cologne was replaced with the warm, masculine scent of Bucky’s skin. She couldn’t see him, it was pitch dark in the closet, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Um, yeah,” she mumbled softly, heard Bucky chuckle… just before his lips came down on hers.

“Are they gone?” Darcy whispered dazedly a long time later, when Bucky lifted his head. Her hands were buried in his hair, clinging on tight.

“They left about ten minutes ago, doll,” Bucky chuckled softly. “I just didn’t want to stop kissing you.”


	174. Darcy/Steve/Bucky for blue-beasts-girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 10** - _"It looks like you're in trouble there. Can I help?" Darcy/Steve/Bucky for blue-beasts-girl_

“It looks like you’re in trouble there, doll,” a warm, amused voice said. “Can I help?”

Darcy lifted her head as far as she could manage to see Bucky standing by the door, surveying her with a broad grin on his face.

“That would be nice. Since it’s your asshole boyfriend who put me here.”

“He’s _our_ asshole boyfriend,” Bucky pointed out, crossing the room to stand beside her.

“Right now, he’s all yours,” Darcy grumped.

“So what, exactly, did you do?” Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots.

“You know when he said he’d tie me up if I left the Tower on my own again?”

“You _have_ been kidnapped three times in three months, it’s not an unreasonable precaution to insist that you shouldn’t gogo out without protection,” Bucky pointed out.

“I knew you’d take his side! But I wasn’t _on_ my own!”

“I’m afraid I don’t consider Lucky to be adequate protection,” Steve said dryly from the doorway.

“I’m afraid I agree with him, doll,” Bucky shook his head. “Please don’t do that again, Darcy.” He reached out to touch her hair lightly. “Neither of us could bear it if something happened to you.”

She pursed her lips, looked away from his beseeching blue eyes. “If I promise to behave, will you untie me?” she bargained.

“I don’t think you’ve really learned your lesson yet,” Steve said, and she looked over at him to see him exchange a smirk with Bucky. “You see, I don’t think you understand quite how much you mean to us. Just how much we adore and worship you. So I texted Buck, told him to get back here and help me show you.”

Bucky had finished stripping by now, stood up and moved around the bed to stand on the opposite side to Steve. Both magnificently nude, they smiled down at Darcy, also naked but tied spread-eagled to the bed, with anticipatory hunger.

“This is probably incentive for me to misbehave further,” Darcy couldn’t help but lick her lips.

“As long as you misbehave safely inside the Tower, that’s fine,” Steve said. “In fact, maybe in the future we’ll use this as a reward.”

It was then that he brought the canister of whipped cream out from behind his back.

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh,” was all she said before the first squirt of chilled cream sprayed across her nipple, followed rapidly by Bucky’s hot mouth latching on. After that there was no way she could get out any words.

Only moans. And a few screams....


	175. Bucky/Darcy for cerridwenluna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 12** - _Free choice, feelsy fluff requested, Daddy!Bucky and father/daughter bonding with maybe Darcy catching him? for cerriddwenluna_

The very first thing Bucky had insisted on doing once he was safe and cleared of any wrong-doing, was going to look for his children.

“ _Children_?” the look on Steve’s face was priceless. “How many are we talking about?”

“Three. I wasn’t keen on being used as a stud, they had to trick me into it.” Bucky’s eyes were dark. “They were trying to breed a new generation of supersoldiers.”

“Did it work?” Steve had to ask.

“None of them were extraordinary as babies. Super or not, though, I can’t leave them in Hydra’s hands.”

All three of Bucky’s children were daughters, it turned out, all being kept together with a Hydra loyalist family in Italy, their mothers long gone from the picture. Sandrine and Leona were twins, three years old; young enough to be quickly adaptable. Vittoria was the oldest at nine and much warier, less trusting. She’d seen her own mother killed in front of her eyes for trying to keep Vittoria from being taken away for Red Room training. Fortunately Vittoria had never actually made it to the training; Clint and Natasha had cleaned out the training center just before her arrival.

It took almost six months of living in Bucky’s big apartment within the Avengers’ complex, seeing how devoted and protective he was of her little sisters and herself, before Vittoria lowered her guard even a little bit.

“Can we go down to the big kitchen?” she asked unexpectedly one afternoon, as the twins were taking their nap.

“Sure,” Bucky looked up from the book he was reading, startled. He’d thought Vittoria completely absorbed in her own book. “You hungry? I’ve got ice cream in our freezer…”

“I want to go to the big kitchen.” Vittoria’s jaw set in a way that was very familiar to Bucky. Of the three, she was the most like him, with his dark hair and blue eyes, the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. “Darcy said she was making brownies.”

“Darcy?” Bucky looked blank.

“Darcy Lewis. You know. She works for Doctor Foster.”

“Oh, Miss Lewis,” Bucky realized who she had to be talking about, the pretty girl with the glasses and the dark hair and the rather spectacular figure. Not that he’d noticed, of course. Not at all. He’d never spoken to the girl, but he had, now he thought of it, seen her talking with Vittoria once or twice.

“She said I could call her Darcy. And that she was going to bake brownies this afternoon. We could go and get some and share them with Sandrine and Leona.”

It was the first time she’d ever asked him for anything, and Bucky wasn’t about to deny her.

“Sure,” he set his book down and got up. “We’ll leave the door open; we’ll only be down the hall if the girls need us, huh?”

Vittoria nodded; she took her role as the eldest very seriously. “Yes, we’ll hear them if they call for us.”

Bucky was startled, as they went out the door, to feel her slender little fingers curl into his. Very gently, he wrapped his hand back around hers, feeling his heart fill with tenderness.

“Hello, darling!” Darcy spotted Vittoria as soon as they entered the kitchen. “You’re just in time to lick the spoon!”

Vittoria let go of Bucky’s hand, rushed forward. Darcy caught her with a laugh and hefted her up to sit on the kitchen counter, handing her a very chocolatey spoon to lick. “There you go, get stuck into that while I just put these in the oven. This is the last batch, the first ones are already cooling over there!”

The kitchen smelled absolutely divine. Darcy had flour on her cheek and a smear of chocolate on her upper lip which told Bucky that Vittoria wasn’t the only one who enjoyed licking the mixing spoon. He found himself smiling, drawn in by Darcy’s warmth and open friendliness.

“Well, look at that, your papa _does_ know how to smile,” Darcy told Vittoria, who giggled, startling Bucky further. He’d never heard such a sound from her before. Darcy tipped him a wink, and he, knowing he had to say something but not at all sure what, blurted out quite inadequately;

“Thank you.”

Darcy’s blue eyes widened behind her glasses, she swallowed, looked from him to Vittoria and back again. Licking her lips, she moved over to Bucky, laid her hand on his arm and said very quietly, for his ears alone,

“I’m not sure that was for, but you’re welcome.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. Darcy stepped back, a small smile on her lips. “Maybe you’d better come and talk to me later.”

“Uh, yes,” he said, still flabbergasted. Vittoria was watching the two of them with interest, paused in mid-lick. “Yes, I will do that.” His soulmate, he thought in wonder. His soulmate was standing right there in the kitchen making brownies and spoiling his daughter.

It was like every good dream Bucky ever had, coming true all at once. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he and Vittoria walked back to his apartment, Vittoria’s little hand back in his and a covered plate piled high with freshly-baked warm brownies in his free hand.

“I think you should marry Darcy, Papa,” Vittoria said.

“I think maybe you’re right, angel,” Bucky’s grin only grew wider. “Maybe you can help me convince her of that.”


	176. WinterShieldShock for clear-skies-and-misty-eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 13** - _"Oh my God - I can't believe I said that - to YOU!" WinterShieldShock for clear-skies-and-misty-eyes_

“Darcy,” a soft voice was calling. “Darcee.”

“Ugh,” she peeled her eyes slowly open to see Natasha bending over her, an uncharacteristic expression of concern on her stunning face. “Not you. You’re not ugh. Me. I feel ugh.”

A fleeting smile crossed Natasha’s lips. “Well. You got a faceful of a very nasty compound developed by Hydra. _Ugh_ is actually an improvement on how you could have been.”

A straw was held to Darcy’s lips and she sucked gratefully at it, feeling blissfully cool water flood her parched mouth. Natasha let her drink for quite a while before gently removing the straw.

“Do you remember anything?”

Darcy blinked vaguely. She was starting to feel a bit more human, slowly pushed herself to sit up. She was sitting in a bed in what she recognized as one of the private medical treatment rooms in the Avengers facility. Outside the glass observation window, she could see two unmistakable sets of broad shoulders.

“What are Captain Ab-merica and the Winter Beefcake doing here?” she nodded at the window.

Natasha hesitated. “So… you _don’t_ remember anything?”

Wracking her brain, Darcy frowned. “I remember… opening the envelope that came to Jane’s lab from SI, and this powder exploded up into my face.”

“You very bravely screamed at Jane to get out. The envelope wasn’t really from SI, obviously.”

“Go figure. Why?”

“They were after Jane, not you. You weren’t supposed to be there.”

“Right… so what was in the compound?” Darcy still really didn’t remember anything after the powder exploding in her face. “What was it meant to do?”

“Well, it starts by rendering the subject unconscious. Hydra were all ready then to storm the lab, collect Jane, and whisk her off who knows where. But the fact that _you_ were the one exposed enabled _Jane_ to raise the alarm, and the Avengers got to the lab before Hydra did. Cleaned up the incoming kidnap crew quite nicely.”

“You’re not telling me everything, Natasha, please spill,” Darcy begged. “What did they plan to do with Jane?”

“Prince Thor’s fiancee willingly taking part in an orgy which was filmed and released to the Internet would not go down well on Asgard,” Natasha said obliquely.

“Considering what I’ve heard of Odin, I can imagine,” Darcy said dryly. “Wait. Willingly? _Orgy_?”

“The drug is colloquially called sex pollen. Victims become literally frantic to have sex. With anyone.”

“Lovely,” Darcy grimaced, before taking a deep breath. “So. Just how badly did I humiliate myself, and with who?”

The door opened at that, and Natasha glared over her shoulder. “I told you boys to leave this to me,” she said sharply.

“I know, but we heard Darcy worryin’ about humiliating herself and we wanted to assure her that wasn’t what happened,” Bucky said firmly.

The sound of his voice triggered a sudden cascade of memories for Darcy. She’d never met Steve or Bucky before that day, though she certainly knew who they were. Hearing Bucky say her name, though, brought back a rush of memories. Of Steve and Bucky finding her collapsed on the lab floor, calling her name to try and revive her. Steve carrying her out in his arms while Bucky guarded their retreat.

And then, to her utter shame, Darcy remembered coming around properly as Steve laid her down on a stretcher in their quinjet and grabbing onto him.

“I really think that Captain America shouldn’t die a virgin,” she’d told him earnestly, “so I think you should let me ride you like a buckin’ bronco now.”

“Oh. My. God.” Darcy clapped both hands to her mouth, staring at Steve in wide-eyed horror. “I can’t believe I said that! To YOU!”

“I think she remembers, punk,” Bucky nudged Steve. They were both grinning, making Darcy feel even worse. She closed her eyes, wondering if it was actually possible to die of humiliation.

“Doll,” gentle fingers brushed her cheek and she reluctantly opened her eyes again, looked up to see Bucky standing close and Steve ‘persuading’ Natasha to leave the room. “So I’m guessin’ you remember what you said to Stevie. Do you remember what happened next?”

“N-no?” she had to blink back tears of humiliation, but neither Steve nor Bucky looked like they were laughing at her, Steve closing the door behind Natasha and returning to stand beside the bed. “Did I say something embarrassing to you too?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “That was after. What happened next was that Stevie almost died of shock…”

“And then I did this,” Steve reached for the zip on his hoodie, tugged it down. Darcy’s eyes widened as she followed the movement, widened even further as he pulled up the hem of the too-tight white T-shirt he was wearing underneath.

“No _way_ ,” she breathed. “No _freaking_ way.”

“I didn’t understand what it all meant when I woke up,” Steve looked down at the loopy scribble across his abs. “Although, I do promise you, I’m not a virgin.”

“Depends on your definition,” Bucky smirked at him.

“Shut up!” Steve yanked his shirt back down, cheeks flaming.

“This explains why my soulmarks both just say ‘ _Darcy_ ’,” she said, barely able to believe it. “So… what did I say to you?” She almost didn’t want to know, but at the same time she kinda did. Bucky grinned back at her. “Oh, _no_. It’s not good.”

“Depends on your point of view.” Bucky repeated Steve’s action, unzipping his hoodie and pulling up his shirt. The view was impressive enough that she would have leaned forward to stare anyway, but the words on his stomach grabbed her attention.

_‘Don’t think I’m gonna leave you out, Beefcake. There’s enough of me to go around.’_

“Because, doll,” Bucky said, and she looked up to meet the heated stare he was giving her, “we’re both sure hoping that’s the case.”


	177. Loki/Skye, for vulpeculanight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 16** - _"You wouldn't dare" Loki/Skye, for vulpeculanight_

“If you get in the way of one of my operations again,” Daisy shook her finger right under Loki’s nose, “I swear I’ll quake you right into next week!”

He raised an infuriating, amused eyebrow. “Is that so, little girl.”

The steam was practically coming out of Daisy’s ears. She went up on tiptoe to glare at him harder. “Don’t you _dare_ mock me! You almost got two of my people killed with your interference, and I won’t stand for it!”

Loki leaned down towards her so that they were almost nose to nose and smiled. “You should be thanking me, Agent. Without my ‘interference’ _none_ of your people would have made it out of that facility alive. Or do you think any of them could have found and disarmed the bio-weapon I found in the basement in the forty-one seconds it had left on the clock before it went off?”

“... what?” Daisy paled. “What bio-weapon? We didn’t find anything when we searched the place…”

“Which was unexpected, am I correct? The entire reason you assaulted the facility was because you received intelligence that there was a bio-weapon on the premises.”

She hesitated, lowering back down to her heels. “Well… yes. What did you do with it?”

“I froze it - a temporary solution, but one which enabled me to remove it to a safer location. On the dead world of Svartalfheim.”

“Oh.” Thoroughly unsure of herself now, rather intimidated by the way he was still leaning down towards her, penetrating green eyes seeming to stare right through her, Daisy mumbled, “Thanks then. I guess.”

“Such overwhelming gratitude,” Loki said mockingly.

Daisy clenched her teeth, took a deep breath before speaking again. “Thank you for your assistance, Prince Loki.”

“There, was that so hard?”

She wanted to smack the smirk off his infuriating face. Her eyes sparked rage at him. His smirk widened and he leaned in even further towards her. “If you ever speak to me in that rude manner again, Agent, I shall take great pleasure in putting you over my knee and spanking your bottom.”

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t _dare_ ,” she said in complete shock.

“Not only would I dare, I should take great pleasure in doing so.” His lips were almost touching hers. Cool breath flowed on her face, an intriguing, sensual scent tickling her nose. “And so, I think, would you.”

“N-no,” Daisy said, but she hardly knew what she was saying no to.

“Are you quite sure? My hand is quite firm, and your bottom would be delightfully red after just a few spanks, I think…”

Her face flamed red. Her knees felt shaky, and there was a roaring in her ears. Loki straightened up, nodding. “As I thought.” He held out one hand to the side, and the door slammed shut, the lock twisting with a loud _snap_. “Over the desk, I think, Agent.” He was wearing gloves; Daisy watched, hypnotised, as he slowly removed them, peeling the leather up his long, elegant fingers.

Loki looked down into the wide eyes of the little mortal woman, smiled slowly. “Did you not hear me? Bend. Over. The. Desk.”

She bent.


	178. Natasha/Sif for iamaboojum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 17** - _“Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.” Natasha/Sif for iamaboojum_

Men were so disgustingly predictable. And so _pathetic_. Sif watched, shaking her head in disappointment at the entire gender, as one after another Asgardian warrior approached the Lady Natasha with some feeble line and was rejected. Natasha looked almost equally as revolted as Sif felt.

When Fandral came back for a second attempt, Sif had seen quite enough. Standing up abruptly, she made her way across to where her blond friend was attempting to schmooze up to the Midgardian lady warrior.

“Fandral. Go away.”

“But I…” one look at Sif’s expression and Fandral caved.

“It has been my true honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Natasha.” He bowed elegantly and retreated. The next Asgardian idiot waiting in line to make an attempt took one look at Sif’s face and started backing hastily away, collecting another two potential suitors in his panicked flight. A few more glares from Sif and suddenly there was nobody within twenty paces of them.

“That’s a neat trick,” Natasha drawled, “but really, not necessary. I was amusing myself with coming up with new ways to reject them.”

Sif, suddenly face to face with the startlingly beautiful Midgardian, froze up completely. The only thing she could come up with to say was;

“Their pick-up lines weren’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.”

Natasha’s full lips curved up in a slow smirk, and she leaned back in her chair, picked up her glass and took a sip of her drink. Setting the glass down again, she leaned towards Sif and said, her voice low and sultry;

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”


	179. Skye/Loki for bloominidiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 18** - _“You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” Skye/Loki for bloominidiot_

“Loki, come _onnn_ ,” Skye pleaded. “What’s taking so long?”

“Magic is not something that can be rushed, my love.” Loki did not look up from the marble bowl in which he was carefully grinding together potent-smelling ingredients. “Not unless you wish for unwise results.”

Considering her current situation, Skye was very much _not_ in favour of ‘unwise’ results. She sighed, tested the bonds securing her wrists and ankles to the corners of Loki’s four-poster bed again, and said “How much longer?”

“Such a petulant tone. Humans are so impatient,” Loki mused, casting her an amused glance. “Not so very much longer, my love, and I assure you that I will make the wait worth your while.”

Skye sighed impatiently, trying not to grind her teeth. She’d already been tied up for almost an hour, naked, while Loki paced back and forth at his workbench, gathering ingredients and preparing his spell, whatever it was. Just watching him was no small distraction, stripped to the waist as he was, his torso rippling with sinuous, lean grace as he moved.

She would far rather be watching him lying above her fucking her into next week, however.

“You’re so mean,” she grumped, shifting around uselessly. There was no friction to be had for her aching nipples and damp, hot pussy, however.

Loki merely smiled, finally laying the pestle down. Gathering a little of the paste he’d made on one fingertip, he moved over beside the bed, leaned down, and gently applied it to the tip of each swollen nipple.

“... and I’m okay with that,” Skye discovered, as an icy fire spread through her body from those twin points, crackling along her nerves, leaving in its wake pleasure so intense it was just below the point of pain. “Oh my… _Loki_!”

His smile widened, and he reached to delicately dab the last bit of the paste onto her clit. Wiping his finger on the sheet, he sat down cross-legged between her ankles, leaning forward with interest to watch the show as she arched up and climaxed _hard_ , screaming his name at the top of her lungs.


	180. Sif/Matt Murdock for masquerade122

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 22** - _Sif/Matt Murdock, Author’s choice for masquerade122_

Sif eyed the three-dimensional holographic map hovering in the middle of the room with some trepidation. “‘Tis a very great city, Thor.”

“It is, greater than any I have ever seen. Midgardians tolerate living in far closer quarters than any other race I have ever known.” Thor manipulated the hologram skilfully. “The Man of Iron has used his _facial recognition algorithms_ and found a number of locations where Odin has been present over the last few months. He moves about a good deal, and often chooses to avoid locations where surveillance is present.”

Sif sighed, considering the red-dotted locations which sprang up on the hologram. “If only he were not invisible to Heimdall’s Sight,” she murmured.

“Then this search would be unnecessary.” Thor gestured, a broad sweep of his hand selecting a closely-bunched group of the red dots. “This area is called ‘Hell’s Kitchen’.”

“It sounds quite charming,” Sif said, her tone dust-dry.

Thor’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Stark says that it is not half so bad as it sounds. I thought that you could perhaps survey this area over the next day or two while I take this grouping over here, in ‘Harlem’.”

“Of course,” Sif nodded in agreement. “A copy of the map would be useful?”

Thor offered one of the Midgardian communication devices Sif had seen her friends at SHIELD use. “Loaded onto this phone for you.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the ‘phone’, played with the interface for a few moments until she figured it out. A simple, but rather interesting device. The map was converted to two dimensions, but since all the sightings of Odin were at street level anyway, that did not matter at all. Sif oriented herself and slipped the device into the pocket of her leather jacket. “I shall set out directly.”

“Do you not wish to break your fast before you leave?” Thor asked.

“No. I enjoy the drink called ‘coffee’, I have found… I shall purchase some, and some food as I walk.”

“Yes, coffee is good, is it not?” Thor nodded enthusiastically. “You should try ‘Pop-Tarts’ as well… although I am not sure that they serve those in coffee houses.”

Sif decided that she would not ask. Thor did, occasionally, develop peculiar interests. He might even be teasing her. ‘Pop-Tarts’ did not sound especially appetizing, whatever they might be. She took her leave without committing to try them, purchasing a coffee and a breakfast pastry at a cafe she passed on the next block to the Tower and consuming them as she walked towards Hell’s Kitchen.

The area was not one tenth so intimidating as the name suggested, she decided after walking the streets for a few hours. Indeed, many of the streets were positively gentrified, the businesses active, the clientele well-dressed. There were few of the shambling, weary ‘homeless’ within sight, not on the main streets, anyway. Thoughtfully, Sif checked her phone, scanned the red dots and noted the locations of the surveillance units which had picked up on Odin’s presence. He had not remained within sight of any of them for long, just passing through.

Putting the phone away again, Sif looked around, noting the mouth of a narrow alley nearby. She moved forward to look along it. No cameras there. Plenty of places for someone to hide, and she thought those large metal containers were used for rubbish. A desperate person might find food there.

A few steps into the alley and she realized another purpose that such a small, dark, confined area might serve for the denizens of the neighborhood. The stench of urine was strong; she covered her mouth and nose with her hand and walked on more quickly.

The alley was empty of life - except for a few rats nosing around one of the Dumpsters - but Sif was sure now that such a place was where she might find Odin. Returning to the main street, she looked around for the entrance to another such alley.

A long day searching dingy, stinking alleys later, darkness was falling and she considered quitting and returning to the Tower. Thor had not called, though, which meant that his search had been equally fruitless. She checked her map once more; she had covered all but a small portion of her allotted area. Considering her options, she entered a nearby bodega.

“I wish to purchase a portable light, to use after darkness falls,” she did her best to speak as she had heard Midgardians do.

“A flashlight, y’mean,” the man at the counter said. “Third aisle, near the end, with the other hardware.”

“A flashlight, yes. Thank you.” Armed with the correct word, Sif checked the indicated aisle and found the labelled items, selected a long slim Maglite that could slide up her sleeve - and double as a weapon in a pinch, she considered. A quick look at the paper money Stark had provided her with and she selected a few notes, returned to the counter.

“Y’all be wantin’ batteries too, miss?”

“Batteries…”

“To make it work. Won’t work without batteries.” A packet was slapped down on the counter in front of her.

“Ah. Thank you.” She picked out another note and handed it over, not seeing how the man’s eyes widened at the thick wad of money she put back into her jacket pocket. He became suddenly even more helpful, offering to put the batteries in for her, asking if there was anything else she needed.

“No, I thank you.” Sliding the now-loaded Maglite up her sleeve, she left the store, glancing up at the rapidly-darkening sky. Behind her, the clerk pulled out his phone, peering out the window after her.

Sif was moving from the third alley to the fourth after buying the flashlight when she realized she was being followed. Three men, doing their best to be stealthy but failing completely. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen seemed quite different after dark, she thought; far fewer people moving about, those who were staying in small groups for the most part. _Not a safe place for a woman alone_ , she thought, and smiled to herself, catching a glimpse of the flash of her own white teeth in a store window as she checked it for the reflections of her pursuers. _But then, I am not just any woman. Dealing with these fools will be nothing but a public service._

Walking deep into the alley, she made a point of acting just as she had in the previous ones, shining the beam of her flashlight into the darkest corners. This alley had no human inhabitants, unlike some of the previous ones; no wary eyes peered back at her.  Reaching the end of the alley, she turned, bracing her stance, and deliberately shone the light directly into the eyes of the three men who had followed her.

All three flinched back, but only briefly. They kept right on coming. “No need for that, girlie,” one of them said. “Just hand over that nice wad of cash and we’ll be on our way, no harm done.”

“Dunno about that, Joe,” another remarked, eyes running greedily over Sif’s form. “She’s a beauty. We could have a bit of fun first, couldn’t we, beautiful?”

“Fun will be had,” Sif agreed, “but I think, not the kind you are expecting.” Wondering suddenly if the flashlight would still work if she used it as a truncheon, she clicked it off and slid it back up her sleeve. Better safe than sorry, and it was not as though she needed it. The sudden absence of light was an advantage in and of itself, as her would-be assailants blinked frantically, their night vision entirely ruined.

Just about to leap down from the rooftop where he’d been observing the three mooks he’d heard planning to mug the woman who’d been dumb enough to flash a huge wad of cash in a Hell’s Kitchen bodega, Matt Murdock paused.

There was no fear whatsoever in the woman’s voice, and her accent was extremely curious, like none he’d ever heard before. In the melting-pot of New York, he thought he’d heard just about every accent on Earth.

_Something is strange, here…_

Two rapid steps and Sif was driving her elbow into the face of the nearest would-be mugger. His cheekbone and nose crumpled under the pile-driving power of Asgardian muscle and bone, and he went down in a boneless heap without even a whimper.

A side-kick sent the second man flying almost sixty feet, crashing into a Dumpster near the mouth of the alley before he too crumpled and lay still.

The third man only had time to take a single step backwards. His retreat bought him a small mercy; the punch Sif drove into his midriff was very slightly less powerful than it might otherwise have been.

He still hit the opposite wall so hard that bricks crumbled and fell on him as he slumped to the ground.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” a shocked voice said above her, and Sif’s head snapped up.

“Who is there?” she said sharply. “Show yourself!”

Her eyes widened with surprise as a masked man in a dark red leather suit leaped agilely down from a fire escape, landing about fifteen feet away from her in a wary crouch.

“Who the hell _are_ you?” he demanded. “Even Jessica Jones doesn’t hit that hard!”

“I do not know who this Jessica Jones is, but I think I would probably like her.” Sif smiled, showing her teeth. There was something interesting about this man, about the way he moved; he did not seem to look directly at her, either, keeping his head tilted down and slightly turned away. Almost as though he was listening to her rather than looking at her.

“You’re blind,” she said in surprised discovery.

The man froze. “How… you cannot _possibly_ tell that.”

“Indeed I can. When I underwent my training, I ran many exercises blindfolded, learning to rely on senses other than my sight. I recognise your posture.”

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Matt asked again, more confused than ever.

Sif sensed no threat in him, despite his garb. No threat to _her_ , at any rate. “I am the Lady Sif, of Asgard. And you?”

Matt hesitated before saying “They call me the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Or Daredevil.” He shrugged slightly. “This is… my territory, if that makes sense to you. I was about to intercept these…” he swept his hand around vaguely. “... well. Clearly you didn’t need my help.”

Sif had to smile. “The fact that you planned to offer it was most gallant, though. Your intention is appreciated.”

“And your help in cleaning up some of the scum of my city is also appreciated, ma’am.” Matt gave her a slight bow. “Although I really do have to ask what _your_ intentions are?”

“I am looking for my King.”

“... the King of Asgard is likely to be found in a dingy alley in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Regrettably, yes. And if this is indeed your territory, perhaps you might help me find him?”

Matt surveyed the Asgardian woman curiously. He’d heard Thor speak before, on TV broadcasts, and while her accent was a little different, she still sounded a lot more like the alien prince than any Earth accent he knew. Asgard probably had regional variations in dialect too, he supposed.

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m a little doubtful, but the King of Asgard hiding out in Hell’s Kitchen is really stretching my suspension of disbelief,” he said.

“I understand,” Sif said with a regretful nod. “It is a long story, beginning with Loki’s perfidy…”

“Oh, _now_ I’m starting to believe you,” Matt said with a grin. “I think I probably don’t need the whole story if that’s the case. ‘Because Loki’ is actually a pretty valid explanation all by itself.”

Sif surprised him with a chuckle. “Yes, ‘Because Loki’ has been considered a valid explanation on Asgard for quite a number of centuries now.”

They snickered in mutual amusement for a minute before Matt straightened up and offered his hand to her. “I’ll be glad to help you find your King if it thwarts a plan of Loki’s, my lady.”

“I thank you, Mr Daredevil.”

“Just call me Matt.” He was surprised when she grasped onto his wrist instead of taking his hand, but went with it, gripping hers in return. As she let go, though, the tip of her middle finger brushed against a tiny patch of skin where his sleeve had pulled back from his glove a little bit.

 

Her touch burned like fire against his skin; even Matt, accustomed to having the crap beaten out of him on a regular basis, yelled with shock at the extreme pain, jerking back away from Sif. She was crying out in pain too, cradling her hand to her chest, hunching over.

“What the fuck,” Matt panted, trying to get his breath back. Gingerly, he probed at his wrist with his free hand, tugged his glove off with his teeth to feel more carefully. The pain had vanished as quickly as it came, but he could feel something left behind on his skin, almost like a brand, raised fine lines on his flesh. His fingertips stuttered as he traced slowly over them; while it was nothing he recognized, somehow he was sure that the shapes _meant_ something. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

Sif’s breathing sounded ragged; he could hear her heart pounding fast. “Soulmate,” she stumbled out, her voice shaky. “You - you are my soulmate!”

“I don’t have words!”

“Nor do I; Asgardians are not as humans. We recognize our soulmates at first touch.” He sensed her moving closer; tensed briefly, trying to tell himself that she meant him no harm. He was pretty sure she could break him in half without raising a sweat if she felt like it. “May I?”

Reluctantly he held out his hand, palm uppermost. Heard her click her flashlight on, felt the warm light beam over his wrist.

“My name and sigil,” Sif said quietly, though she did not touch him. “And on the tip of my finger is what appears to be a tiny set of weighing scales - one side of which holds an image of your mask.”

“The scales of justice,” Matt murmured, half-smiling. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s appropriate. Is there anything on the other side of the scale?”

“My sigil, again. Levelling it.” Slowly and cautiously, Sif reached out, touched the hand he’d removed the glove from. “I have searched for you for many long years, Matt. These may be unusual circumstances, but I am very glad to have found you.”

“Me too,” he agreed, feeling her long fingers curl gently into his. A distant sound caught his ear and he tilted his head. “We need to go. The police are coming, and being found here with three bodies would be a pretty bad look, even if you do have diplomatic immunity as a representative of Asgard.”

“Do I?”

“Probably? But I’d rather not have to argue it in court, if it’s all the same to you.” Matt gestured at the fire escape he’d jumped down from. “Let’s get out of here. And then you can fill me on on the whole story with what Loki’s done that’s caused Odin to be AWOL down here, and we’ll find him.”

“And after that, we shall take some time to talk of you and I, and what our future may hold,” Sif leaped easily to the first landing of the fire escape.

“Can’t wait!” Matt scrambled up after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted to the Crackship Armada since it's a ship I hadn't written before.


	181. Darcy/Pietro for tinydear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 24** - _“You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend/Girlfriend material.” Darcy/Pietro for tinydear_

The knock at Darcy’s office door couldn’t have come at a worse possible moment. She sucked in a deep breath and groped for tissues, blotting hastily at her eyes, castigating herself for giving in to her weakness while at work. The door wasn’t even properly shut.

It swung wider now, propelled by the man who entered immediately, saying “Help, Darcy, I have no idea what to say to this list of questions _Sixteen_ magazine have sent me…” he froze half-way into sinking into the seat opposite her. “You’re crying.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Darcy mopped more fiercely at her face. “Not crying. Nope.”

Pietro eyed her for a moment before he stood up, shut the door, and sat back down again. “There. The whole PR department saw me come in here, so they won’t interrupt and your assistant can get your calls. If you need to have a good cry, you can do so without being interrupted. I’ll just, um, read this book.” He picked a book at random off the shelf by her desk.

It was such a sweet gesture that Darcy lost it and started bawling again. Shoulders shaking, face buried in her hands, it took a moment for her to recognise the gentle pressure on her shoulders as Pietro hugging her. She turned her face against his chest and sobbed her heart out.

“Why do you cry so, Darcy?” Pietro asked gently as her sobs finally slowed. “Who has done this to you?” Rage welled in his chest at the thought of someone hurting Darcy. She was generous and kind, had been the first ‘normal’ to befriend him and Wanda when they joined the Avengers. Wanda had trusted her utterly from the first moment, which was all the character reference Pietro would ever need.

“Ian,” Darcy hiccoughed against his shoulder finally.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend. Ex-fuck buddy, apparently, I didn’t actually rate high enough to be his girlfriend. Since he just changed his Facebook status to ‘In A Relationship’. With someone who is _not me_. I never rated anything more than ‘It’s Complicated’.”

The thought had more tears running down her cheeks. “I was never good enough for him,” she sniffled, mopping at her nose with her wad of tissues. “I was only good enough for regular booty calls.”

Pietro growled something under his breath. Darcy blinked, looked up at him through watery eyes. “What?”

“He is a _šupak_! A… how do you say… shitass!”

Darcy laughed through her tears. “I think you mean asshole, but I actually really like that description. Ian the Shitass.”

“He is a shitass, and a stupid one too!” Pietro stroked her hair gently, before taking hold of the hem of her sleeve and tugging at it. “Do you know what this is, Darcy?”

She blinked damply at him, looked at her sleeve. “Uh… cotton-rayon blend, I think?”

“It is girlfriend material, Darcy. _You_ are girlfriend material. Ian is the stupidest shitass in the world if he cannot see that.”

“Oh… stop being adorable. You’re going to make me cry more.”

“Don’t cry.” He wiped his thumbs gently beneath her eyes. “If you were my girlfriend, I would do anything so that you would not cry, Darcy.”

She stared at him silently, her big blue eyes wide, despite their red rims, and Pietro did what he’d been longing to do since the day they met, though he’d never have made a move while she was still dating Ian. He leaned forward and kissed her red, swollen, trembling lips.


	182. Bucky/Jemma/Rumlow, for bohojess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 25** - _“I’m going to show you what real fucking is.” Bucky/Jemma/Rumlow, for bohojess_

Jemma paced across the room for the twentieth time in two minutes. She still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to slip her spare room key to Brock Rumlow at the SHIELD Christmas party earlier that evening. He and Bucky had made it very clear to her more than once over the past few weeks that they were both interested in her, but that they came as a package deal. The idea had been a bit too much for her to process so she’d backed away, and they hadn’t pressed.

That evening, they’d approached once again, though, taking it in turns to dance with her, glowering away any other men who dared approach. Having the undivided attention of not one, but two incredibly attractive, virile men was an utterly intoxicating feeling; Jemma could only blame that - and the several glasses of champagne she’d downed - on her decision to slip the key into Brock’s jacket pocket before leaving the party.

She looked at her watch for the umpteenth time. It had been fifteen minutes now. Maybe he hadn’t noticed the key. Maybe he didn’t know who it belonged to… no, it had her room number stamped on it, and he knew where that was. Maybe they’d picked up some other girl instead.

The knock on the door surprised her. Wondering who it might be, she went to open it, and looked up into two darkly handsome faces.

“I gave you the key,” she said a bit stupidly.

“Still seems kinda rude, just to let ourselves in,” Bucky said, as the two of them entered, Rumlow turning to close and lock the door behind them.

“Oh.” Frozen with terror like a rabbit in the headlights now that they were actually here, Jemma stood stock still, hands shaking at her sides. Bucky prowled around her slowly as Brock came to stand in front of her.

“Pretty,” Brock murmured, his eyes tracing up and down her slowly. “You put this on for us?”

She nodded shyly. The turquoise silk nightgown she was wearing covered very little, with its plunging neckline and short length, barely covering her groin.

“It’s pretty,” Bucky’s breath was hot on the back of her neck, making her shiver involuntarily, “but I’d rather see it on the floor.” His fingers brushed lightly at the thin straps on her shoulders, sliding them down her arms.

The nightgown needed no more urging than that to fall right off, dropping to the ground at her feet in a slithering rush.

Jemma had to suppress the urge to cover herself with her hands as both men surveyed her, moving around her to take in the full view. Brock ended up back in front of her, Bucky behind her, his hands settling on her hips. She’d expected the metal one to be cold, but it was almost the same temperature as his flesh hand.

Rumlow’s hands came up too, reaching to cup her breasts, thumb lightly over her nipples. Jemma’s lips parted on a gasp, her knees buckling a little, though Bucky held her up easily.

“We’re gonna give you the night of your life, Jemma,” Rumlow said, his rasping voice low and curiously gentle. “We’re gonna show you what real fucking is.”

She wanted to say that she knew perfectly well what sex was like, but she had the sneaking suspicion that they’d both take that as a challenge - and that she might be wrong, anyway. Sex with these two men was highly likely to be utterly unlike anything she’d ever experienced before anyway, she thought, and then there was no more thinking as Rumlow’s mouth descended on hers and Bucky’s hand slid down between her thighs.


	183. Darcy/Bucky for ibelieveinturtles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 26** - _'I came here to punch you/him/her in the face, not listen to your/his/her monologue.' Choose your own pronoun Darcy/Bucky for ibelieveinturtles_

“Are you _asleep_?”

The incredulous question snapped Darcy’s eyes open. She didn’t bother to hide her sigh, and the following yawn that made her jaw crack. “Well, I _was_ ,” she said snappishly.

“But… I was explaining my plan!” Zemo looked quite petulant over the fact that she’d dropped off in the middle of his speech.

“Listen, dude,” Darcy shifted around slightly, trying to get a little feeling back into her zip-tied hands, “I got fuck-all sleep last night because my super-soldier boyfriend just got back from a mission and was feeling _extremely_ amorous. Then you decided to kidnap me during my morning coffee run, _before_ I got the damn coffee. Now you want me to stay awake to listen to yet _another_ villain monologue?” She rolled her eyes at him. “Dude. My man. I’ve been dating the Winter Soldier for a year. This is my… seventh kidnapping? Or is it the eighth? Depends if you count the guy Bucky killed before he actually got me in his stalker van, I suppose.”

Zemo just stared at her, mouth agape.

“I mean, I have to give you points for not taking me to a grotty abandoned warehouse down by the river,” Darcy looked around the rather nice hotel room, “but at the same time, there were security cameras in that parking garage, so I estimate you don’t have many more minutes before the Avengers come crashing through that window and take your head off.” Catching a glimpse of something incoming rapidly, she added “make that seconds.”

She probably shouldn’t have tipped him off, she realized, because he was damned quick, darting behind her chair and holding something against her throat. Something quite appallingly sharp - oh, that was an unfortunately placed mirror. She could see the scalpel in his hand and the blood beginning to well from her skin.

The window shattered inwards with a tremendous _CRASH_ as Iron Man burst through it, War Machine and Vision right on his tail. The door burst in as Steve kicked it off its hinges a fraction of a second later.

The generously proportioned hotel room seemed quite a lot smaller when suddenly full of Avengers.

“You okay, doll?” Bucky rumbled, moving into the room, though he never took his eyes off Zemo.

“I’m fine. Was just having a nice nap, actually,” Darcy said, trying to keep her tone light, though she could feel the hot blood beginning to trickle faster down her neck as Zemo pressed the scalpel in a little harder.

“Now that you’re here, Soldat,” Zemo said, “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh shut up. I came here to punch you in the face, not listen to your monologue.”

Zemo spluttered in outrage before snapping “ _Zhelaniye! Rzhavyy! Semnadstat’! Rassvet…_ ”

He didn’t get any further. The knife fell from his lifeless hand as Bucky’s hand snapped up with preternatural speed and the gun in it _cracked_.

Darcy looked at the single smoking hole in the middle of the dead man’s forehead as Zemo toppled to the ground. “About time too, he was starting to get boring,” she said.

Holstering the gun, Bucky drew a knife and cut her bonds with rapid efficiency. “Get Helen,” he snapped at Stark, “she’s bleeding…”

“It’ll be quickest if I take Darcy back to the Tower…” Tony took one step closer and Bucky snarled, even as he gathered Darcy gently into his arms.

“Orrrr I could go get the quinjet and Helen and come back here, and then you can come back with Darcy yourself.” Tony retreated rapidly towards the window.

Darcy started to shake with reaction as Bucky tenderly drew her close, lifting her into his arms. Rhodey was ushering everyone else out, everyone but Natasha, at least, who approached, holding out a bandage to Bucky.

“Slap that on the wound until we get her to the Tower,” Natasha advised, “and let’s get her to the roof for pickup.”

Darcy was fairly sure that the cut on her neck was nothing more than a flesh wound, but she was also quite content to let Bucky fuss over her. She drew the line about his growling about her going out to get coffee, though.

“Excuse _you_ ,” she poked at his chest, “I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t made me get up so late that Steve had already drunk all the coffee in the carafe.”

“... Are you seriously blaming me for you getting kidnapped?” Bucky looked mildly indignant.

“Either that, or Stark, for not having a proper coffee shop inside the Tower,” Darcy said disingenuously. She smiled internally at Bucky’s expression. No doubt there would be a barista on 24-hour duty within the week.

 _Something_ good had to come out of getting kidnapped, after all.

 

(“ _Zhelaniye! Rzhavyy! Semnadstat’! Rassvet…_ ” - “Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak…”)


	184. Darcy/Tony for alltheshinies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 27** - _“I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.” Darcy/Tony for alltheshinies_

“Darceeee!” Tony carolled, making her jump.

“What?” Raking her fingers through her untidy hair, she peered up at him over her glasses.

“Come on.” Seizing her hand, he tugged her up from her place in front of the computer. “I know for a fact that Jane’s astronomical observation of the whatsit finished two hours ago.”

“And it’s going to take me at least another two to enter all her data,” but Darcy smiled, as usual swept along by Tony’s effervescent charm. He was a very, very difficult man to say no to.

Not least because she suspected he didn’t actually know the meaning of the word.

Still, he was also an easy man to love. His enthusiasm was infectious as he clutched her hand and pulled her into the elevator, ordering FRIDAY to take them down to the garage.

“Where are we going?” Darcy asked, wondering if she could convince him to take a detour so she could maybe have a shower and change clothes. The up-all-night look wasn’t a good one on her. She eyed her reflection in the mirrored elevator wall with a jaundiced eye.

“The garage.”

“Yes, _obviously_ , but _then_ where?” She gave him an exaggeratedly patient look, but he still hadn’t replied by the time the doors slid open.

“What do you think?”

“Of what?” Darcy said automatically, but it was pretty obvious what Tony was gesturing at. An electric-blue… was that a Lamborghini?

“Nice,” she admitted. “But I thought you already had two Lamborghinis? And blue isn’t really your color…”

Tony laughed, pulled her towards the car. “Not mine. Yours.”

“What?” she stopped dead in her tracks, gaped at him. “You can’t give me a Lamborghini!”

“Of course I can,” Tony said in quite reasonable tones. “Me, billionaire. You, billionaire’s girlfriend. It’s ridiculous for you to drive round in that ancient Toyota Camry.”

“Are you _drunk_?” Darcy put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

“No. Just intoxicated by you.” He put his hands on her waist, pulled her close. “I want to see you driving this car, Darcy. And it’s got some really cool features I can’t wait to show you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That tone in your voice tells me that you’ve been tinkering with it. What aren’t you telling me?”

Tony completely failed to look innocent. Darcy poked him in the ribs and he yelped. “Well, I may have made a few small adjustments. You know. I… might have made it bulletproof. And… it might fly.”

Darcy stared at him with utter incredulity for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Only you, Tony Stark. Only you.”


	185. Tasertricks for party-in-the-blue-box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 28** - _“Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” Tasertricks for party-in-the-blue-box_

“Loki, this is your fault!” Jane jabbed him sharply in the ribs. He looked down his nose at her.

“That seems to be a very common refrain among you Midgardians,” he sneered.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s _your_ use of magic that led Hydra to us, and then you only grabbed me and not Darcy before you poofed out again!”

“Teleported, not _poofed_ ,” Loki shrugged irritably. “How was I to know that the other human was of use to you?”

Jane growled. Loki actually found himself taking a small step back. “Fine. Fine! I will go and get it.”

“HER! Her name is Darcy!” Jane shouted after him as he disappeared again in a puff of green smoke. “I am _so_ getting Thor to hit you with Mjolnir when he gets here,” she muttered under her breath, starting to pace up and down.

Loki found the little mortal strapped down to a makeshift hospital bed in one of Hydra’s facilities. “Oh, this is distasteful,” he looked around, making a face. Sent the two lab-coated technicians who tried to rush him flying with a flick of his fingers; they both hit the wall hard and lay still.

“Darcy,” he leaned over the bed, reaching to unfasten the Velcro straps holding her down. “Can you hear me?”

Blue eyes opened, but her stare was unfocused, vague. “Hey, hot stuff,” she slurred at him. “Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

Startled, Loki blinked down at her. “I rescue Midgardian maidens in distress, it appears,” he said. “What did they give you, little one?”

“Dunno. Feel sleepy. Take me to bed, stud, or lose me forever.” She smiled dreamily, held her arms out towards him.

“I think sleep is probably what you need,” Loki said, “and a medical facility. A proper one.” He sighed. He was going to have to call in a favor from Stark, he just knew it. Gently, he lifted the little mortal into his arms. She tucked her face against his throat and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You smell nice,” Darcy mumbled vaguely.

Loki realized, rather to his discomfort, that she smelled nice too. He had an ominous feeling that the grip she had around his neck wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Somehow, he found he didn’t mind at all.

 


	186. Fitz/Natasha for theicecreammanoftheuniverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 28** - _"Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?" Fitz/Natasha for theicecreammanoftheuniverse_

“Fitz, act natural, for fuck’s sake,” Coulson’s voice said sharply in his earpiece. “You’re going to attract attention to yourself.”

“Forgive me, but how exactly does one act naturally at an incredibly swanky party when my partner is holed up in the ladies’ loo hacking the host’s wifi and his entire backup storage?” Fitz hissed back. His palms were sweating. He was sure one of the huge security guards positioned strategically around the room was looking at him. He offered the man a weak smile and turned away.

“Go and get a drink and hit on one of the beautiful women at the bar,” Coulson told him, “that’s what all the other guys at the party seem to be doing.”

Fitz shot a glare upwards; obviously Daisy had hacked far enough in that Coulson was seeing through the room’s security cameras. “Fine,” he hissed. “Fine. At least they should have decent Scotch.” He wasn’t going to take the second part of the suggestion. No matter how stunning some of the female guests were.

There was one vacant barstool at the long marble bar, at the very far left. Fitz seated himself and gestured to the barman… who completely ignored him.

“Typical,” he muttered with a sigh.

There was an impossibly beautiful blonde in a skintight white dress on the barstool next to him. She laughed softly. “Let me help. What do you want?”

“Scotch, neat,” Fitz almost stammered it as she slanted a smile his way. “Um. Please.”

The blonde leaned forward, putting both elbows on the bar and pressing them together. Her dress was very low-cut. Fitz could only imagine what sort of view the barman must be getting; the man’s eyes almost popped out of his head and he nearly dashed along the bar.

“Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“A Scotch for my friend here. A double, neat. And I’ll have another vodka martini.”

“Of course!”

And of course the martini was made and delivered first, Fitz noticed in amusement. He raised his glass to the blonde once it was put down in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She slanted that laughing look at him again, and he couldn’t help but notice how startlingly green her eyes were. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And after a gulp of quite exceptional Scotch, he almost had the courage to say so. Except that he’d never been any good at pickup lines.

Another gulp of Scotch and the words just tumbled from his lips.

“So apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

The blonde’s lips curved upwards into a quite wicked grin as she twisted around and leaned over towards him.

“Well, I’m here to make sure you don’t get your ass killed, Leo Fitz,” she said softly, for his ears only. “Adorable ass that it is.”

Fitz’s jaw dropped as he recognized that perfect bone structure, those depthless green eyes. “Age…” was all he got out before Natasha leaned forward even further (seriously endangering her modesty) and pressed her lips to his.

“Sh,” she whispered, leaning back. “Call me Nadia,” she said, more loudly, leaning back and putting her hand possessively on his arm. “And maybe later, you can call me _mistress_.”


	187. FitzNat for mischiefandmagic6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 29** - _“Don’t worry, it only seems kinky the first time.” FitzNat for mischiefandmagic6_

“Okay, I’m gonna need a lift.”

“A… lift?” Fitz stared at Natasha. She looked back at him, gesturing impatiently.

“Yes, the ceiling’s too high and there’s no furniture in here.”

“There’s no furniture in here because we’re in a cell!”

“And the only reason we’re in a cell is because I was worried about you getting killed, so I had to let them catch me.” She planted her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Now give me a lift so I can break us out of here.”

Fitz looked up. “Ms. Romanoff, the ceiling is solid concrete.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and jumped him. Fitz let out a very unmanly squeak as he suddenly found her sitting on his shoulders - facing him, so that his face was pressed against her stomach. She reached up and unscrewed the light bulb, plunging them into sudden darkness.

“What the hell!” Fitz twisted his head to one side, heard Natasha’s soft laugh.

“Don’t worry. It only seems kinky the first time.”

“The first time what?”

She backflipped off his shoulders, sending him staggering backwards. “The first time you’re trapped alone in the dark with me.”

Glas shattered. Fitz stood frozen, wondering what the hell was happening. Small scratching noises sounded in the darkness.

“What _are_ you doing?”

“Letting us out.” A tiny crack of light showed as Natasha opened the door a fraction, peered out. “Only two guards. Wait one.”

She was gone quite a bit less than a minute, actually, Fitz had only got up to a count of thirty-six in his head when she returned, opening the door properly.

“Come on, let’s go!”

He realized what she’d been doing with the lightbulb when he saw the remains of the filament sticking out of the lock as they passed. The two guards in the corridor were down for the count, but he thought not dead.

“Now what?” he asked, timidly following Natasha as she casually kicked open doors and took down guards on their way out of the building.

“Now? Now we go and have celebratory escape sex!” Natasha said cheerfully.

Fitz fell over his own feet.


	188. Darcy/Tony for sarastark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **December 29** - _"I'm personally offended that you didn't ask me to be your fake date." Darcy/Tony for sarastark_

“This is going to suck so bad,” Darcy muttered _sotto voce_ , looking into the crowded church. Her entire family was gathered inside, including her multitude of step-siblings and half-siblings. Why on earth her mother had to go through this gigantic hoopla every time she got married was far beyond Darcy. The woman had more husbands than Elizabeth Taylor.

And yet again, Darcy was rolling up to one of her mother’s weddings without a date. She’d totally had Clint lined up too, but Fury had done one of his mysterious appearing acts the day before and stolen both Clint and Natasha off for some super-secret mission.

“Well, here goes another fun day of being put down for being single and generally a failure,” Darcy mumbled, steeling herself to step over the threshold.

“You’re being totally over-dramatic,” a voice drawled behind her, about half a second before an arm looped through hers. “Sounds like something I would do.”

“Mr. _Stark_?” She stared at him in disbelief. He turned his head to peer back at her through the blue sunglasses he was wearing.

“How many times have I told you to call me Tony? We’re _friends_ , Darcy.”

“Well, technically you’re my boss… why are you here, Mr… Tony?”

“Well, Clint sent me an email. Seems like you need a date. And, you know, I’m personally offended that you didn’t ask _me_ to be your fake date.”

“You’re… kind of… recognizable,” Darcy said faintly, having the distinct feeling that she was being railroaded. She could see heads turning, even a few fingers pointing, whispers going up as Tony was recognized.

“Of course I am, I’m Tony Stark.” He led her forward, nodding and smiling as more people turned to stare at him. “Look at it this way, Darcy.” He looked at her through those blue shades again. “Nobody’s gonna look down on you for the date you brought along, now are they?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.


	189. Moving right along...

Well, that's all the birthday prompts done and dusted.

 

 

For 2016...

 

you didn't think I was just gonna quit on you, did you?

Nah.

 

[ Click here to move on to Birthday Gifts For The Soulmate 2017 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9211319/chapters/20891147), and don't forget to subscribe to make sure you never miss an update!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, you too can have a birthday gift fic written for you! But you MUST be following [us on Tumblr](http://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/) and you CAN'T send the ask anonymously since otherwise we won't be able to tag you to let you know that it's done! If you don't have a Tumblr, I'm sorry, you're out of luck. Please do not request in the comments here as we won't be able to oblige.
> 
> If you'd like a gift drabble written for your birthday, please go to [this Tumblr page](http://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/rules) and [send usan ask](http://ozhawkauthor.tumblr.com/ask) in the following format, or similar:
> 
> _My birthday is April 26th and I'd like to request a RumSkye ficlet for the prompt “You wouldn’t dare!”_
> 
> We will also reply privately to your ask to advise you that it's been received and added to my list. Then all you have to do is wait (im)patiently until your birthday comes around! And yes, you can request as far ahead as you wish.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Make Love. Not War.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976804) by [Pyrothebookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrothebookworm/pseuds/Pyrothebookworm)




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